Rose of Winter
by Wolfspirit44
Summary: Jellal is a prisoner of war, and has just about given up on his hopes for freedom. That is, until he meets her. AU and OOC /She turned, and her eyes locked with Jellal's own green ones. It was then, at that very moment, Jellal found the embodiment of his hope, his light./
1. The Feeling of Isolation

**A/N: I know, I'm bad, starting a new one when my other ones haven't even been updated recently. But this came to mind out of nowhere today, and I had to get it out there. **

**Back to my actiony type of storyline! Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The Feeling of Isolation<strong>

_I am a prisoner of war_.

The young man blinked wearily and looked down at the cold stone floor, his dull green eyes straining to see what he had scratched in the rock. The dim light inside his cell just barely illuminated the area surrounding him, casting an eerie bluish glow on the floor.

He blinked tiredly and looked around, the chain on his ankle clanking softly on the ground. He shivered, bringing his arms close to his body to try and preserve what little bodily warmth he had left. He reached to the side and grabbed a ratty blanket off his dirty cot, pulling it around his bare torso and burying his nose in the coarse fabric.

It was winter, in the year of X791.

The young man clenched his teeth bitterly and sighed. Two years ago, he had been a soldier in the army of Fiore, a country of Earthland. Four years ago, Earthland entered a state of civil war as the countries of Pergrande and Minstrel declared war on the other, each vying to take over the world. The rest of the country was forced to choose sides, and Fiore chose Minstrel.

The young man sighed. He had been drafted into the army, and trained as a soldier. He, along with his platoon, had been touring the countryside of Iceberg, when _it _happened.

The ambush.

He and his men had been targeted in a small forest made up of dense trees covered in viney, leafy plants. The undergrowth was thick, and the canopy was completely opaque, only the tiniest slivers of light shining through.

When he and his men had been attacked, they were resting in a small clearing, taking a two minute water break. He had been just emptying his water flask when it began.

"_Captain Fernandes," a younger man yelled, hiding next to him, sheltering behind the fallen bodies of their dead comrades. _

_He turned and looked at the man- a boy really- and grunted. "What is it, Sergeant?" he asked gruffly, brushing his blue hair out of his eyes. _

_The boy dropped his gun on the ground, his eyes full of fear. "Empty," he whispered. "No more bullets."_

_Captain Fernandes looked around, his eyes widening as he looked at the carnage surrounding him. He watched with wide eyes as his lieutenant, a man named Simon, was downed with a bullet to the forehead. His head jerked back, and there was a spurt of blood as the man collapsed. He was dead before he hit the ground. Behind him, a younger man named Sho fell to the ground, screaming and cursing as a bullet tore through his shoulder, another through his thigh. His screams were abruptly cut off as he took a bullet to the chest, tearing his heart apart. His scream was cut off abruptly, and he fell limply._

_A man named Wally, Sergeant First Class, ran towards the tree line, a bloodcurling scream tearing past his lips. He barely made it five feet before he was torn apart by bullets. The sound of a gun, Captain Fernandes decided, was the death toll of yet another soldier._

_He gritted his teeth, dodging to the side as a wave of bullets flew at him. A hiss of pain flew out of his mouth as a bullet grazed his leg, tearing his pants and carving a groove in his calf. He collapsed beside a pile of his fallen comrades and dragged himself behind them, using them as a wall. He gritted his teeth and held his leg, watching the blood drip down his skin._

"_Captain!" said the same boy, the Sergeant from before. He dashed over to his captain's side, tearing a part of his inner jacket and dropping next to his injured superior._

"_I'm ok," the captain whispered, gritting his teeth. The young man bandaged his wound anyway, wrapping the soft linen firmly around the wound. The captain gritted his teeth as pain washed through his body, but he forced it back. A wound like this would not hinder him._

_He nodded his thanks to the young man and turned his head, peering over his fallen men. His eyes raked the forest, watching as more bullets took the lives of his comrades. He couldn't see his adversaries, but as he looked harder, he finally saw something._

_He saw a glint of metal, and then, his eyes fell on what seemed to be a breastplate. As he looked closer, he was able to make out a snake curled around a sword._

_The Pergrande Insignia. The most powerful country in Earthland, their enemy. The same enemy that was currently winning the war, thanks to their numbers and brute strength. Minstrel and their allies, had been forced to fight using guerrilla tactics- attacking in small numbers using the wilderness, then disappearing once they had destroyed their enemy. Just like what Captain Fernandes had been planning as they marched through the countryside of Iceberg, making their way to a town rumored to be harboring a brigade of Pergrandian soldiers._

_The captain narrowed his eyes. "Pergrande, huh," he whispered. "We were played. They've got us."_

_As more and more of his men fell, despair settled in. This was it. They were finished._

_A startled gasp and a wrenching scream jolted the blue haired man out of his thoughts, and he turned. The boy who he had just spoken with coughed, blood streaming out of his mouth and his chest. As the captain watched, the boy's chest exploded as two more rounds fired. The boy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed, his blood staining the earth red._

_Captain Fernandes looked at his hands, ducking his head as another shot sailed over him, just narrowly missing him by an inch. His gun had only three more rounds before he too was depleted. He then would have to resort to his sword, which would be no good against a gun. He'd be dead before he made it to the trees, like Sergeant First Class Wally had found out._

_He looked over at the dead boy, seeing the blank eyes, the limp hands. His heart sank. "The meaningless of war," he murmured, listening to the sounds of his comrades being murdered around him. He reached over and closed the boy's eyes with two bloody fingers, before reaching into his army coat and pulling out a white handkerchief._

He looked up and stared bleakly at the barred window several feet above him. He was able to make out a gray, cloudy sky and some tree branches, looking like skeletons in the sky. If he peered close enough, he thought he could make out white puffs floating in the air.

"Feeding time," a harsh voice said, and he looked up. A guard wearing the Pergrande insignia opened the door to his cell and threw a plate on the ground, which held a chunk of stale bread and a piece of moldy cheese. He then plopped a tin full of briny water next to it.

"Eat up."

The prisoner crawled over to the plate and gingerly picked up the piece of break, gnawing at it with his teeth. It was dusty and dry, making his throat clench and tighten. He swallowed, then coughed, hacking as the crumbly piece of food lodged in his throat.

He reached for the tin of water, only to groan when his hand missed the handle and knocked it over, sending the precious liquid racing across the floor. Desperate, he bent down and sucked up as much as he could, trying to ease the pain in his throat.

"What a pitiful sight," the guard said, looking at the prisoner with a baleful eye. He noted the ragged blue hair, the red tattoo under the right eye, and the lifeless look in the prisoner's green eyes.

"Captain Jellal Fernandes of Fiore, am I right?" the guard asked, leaning against the door frame.

The blue haired man looked up, water dripping down his chin. Warily, he nodded, the bread clenched firmly in his hands.

"So you were a soldier, am I right?" the guard said, picking at the grime under his fingernails.

"That's right," the blue haired man said. The raspiness in his voice startled him- had he really not used his voice for that long? When was the last time he talked?

He couldn't remember.

"Well it's too bad your country didn't survive the war," the guard continued, a gleeful light appearing in his malicious eyes. "Say goodbye to that worthless country."

Jellal froze. "W-What did you say?" He asked, shaking. His eyes widened, a light suddenly shining in their green depths. For a split second, life was revived back into him. But at the guard's next words, the light drained out of his eyes and he returned to his lethargic state.

"Pergrande bombed them last month. Turned Fiore into a desolate wasteland. "No Man's Land," we're calling it," the guard said, puffing his chest up proudly. He grinned sadistically down at Jellal. "Sorry, Fernandes, but your country is gone."

Jellal sat there, his eyes wide and disbelieving, while the guard laughed maniacally and exited his cell, closing the gate and locking it. He winked at Jellal before walking off, swinging his keys and whistling a foreign tune. Jellal stared blankly after him until he walked around a corner and disappeared.

My country...is gone? he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. Fiore's... been destroyed?

He thought of all his friends, his family. The people he left behind.

They were gone. Turned to dust to be scattered in the wind and forgotten.

His mouth opened, whether to scream or yell out in anger. But nothing came out. He wasn't sure if it was he was too weak to yell, or his shock just rendered him speechless.

He collapsed against the wall, his chains clanking. He looked down at his outstretched legs, his bare feet grimy and his ankles chafed raw from his shackles. There was a roaring sound in his ears, and he could hear his own heartbeat: fast and erratic. His chest, still muscular even though he was lacking in strength, food, and activity, heaved. He tried to calm his breathing, but he just couldn't help the panting breaths escaping past his lips.

His country, the country he had tried to protect, was gone. He had nothing left to go back home to- if he ever made it home, that is.

He had been held captive for so long, the very thought of being able to return home almost sounded ridiculous now. He tried holding on to the hope that he would one day be freed, but he had given up long ago.

Thinking of home, now, was futile. There was no home to think about.

He wondered about his family. Did they at least die a quick death? Or were they blasted apart into shreds by shrapnel by the bomb? Buried alive? Burned in the fires of the aftermath? Did they survive, and then get picked off by snipers Pergrande no doubt sent to get rid of any survivors?

His mother had always been a gentle woman. She was the type that would never hurt a fly- she would even save spiders and ants from his wrathful fists and bring them outside to set them free. She had protested strongly when he was drafted into the army, crying and clutching on to the lapels of his jacket the day he left. He had had to pry her fingers off his coat.

His father, on the other hand, had been a war hero when Bosco and Iceberg began to fight with eachother. He had died in combat, but when Jellal had known him, he had been a tougher, gruff man, with long blue hair and a tattoo around his right eye, like Jellal had. He had given Jellal his middle name as his own.

_Jellal Siegrain Fernandes._

He had also had a sister, a beautiful little girl named Wendy. She had been a surprise, having being born when Jellal was thirteen, back when Siegrain had been alive. He had died shortly before Jellal was drafted at age eighteen.

Jellal was twenty now.

Wendy would've turned eight this year.

Jellal felt tears forming in his eyes, but he dashed them away. "No," he whispered. "No mourning for them until you know that they're dead for sure."

He had given up hope for almost everything, but he wouldn't give up on his family, not just yet. It would be the last thing he let go. If he ever got out of his prison, he'd return to Fiore and find out the truth.

He looked out the window again, his eyes narrowing as snow was suddenly swept in, swirling around and dancing in his cell. The sudden blast of cold had him reaching for his blanket, diving onto his cot and curling up into a ball. He eyed the discarded bread and cheese laying next to him with distaste. There was no way he was going to eat that. He'd rather starve.

He watched the snow drift through the air of his cell, dancing in the space and swirling around. It was almost a beautiful sight, but Jellal was filled with a cold and empty feeling.

His eyes fell to the floor, where his scratching on the rock was clearly visible.

_I am a prisoner of war._


	2. Beauty of Nature

**A/N: I'm sorry I'm so late with my updates, life is being a bitch and kicking me in the ass. Thank god its winter break, so I'll have time to catch up.**

**heads up, some OOC in this chapter, and probably for the rest of the story.**

**thanks for reviewing, ****favoriting, and following.**

**please disregard the spelling errors in this chapter. I'll fix it later! **

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Beauty of Nature<strong>

"What's your name?"

She blinked and looked up, wiping the strands of red hair out of her face. The person who spoke to her, a young blonde woman with wide brown eyes, leaned over her with a curious look in her eyes, her lips pursed.

"My name?" The red haired woman asked, her mind fuzzy. "Erza Scarlet."

The blonde smiled warmly. "Erza Scarlet," she murmured, bending down and sitting next to the redhead. "What a beautiful name. Just like you."

Erza looked around. She was in a small, featureless room, the lights dim. She was wearing a plain, white cotton dress, which was grimy and blood spattered. Erza could feel a dull aching pain in her head, and when she put her hand up to her temple, she felt warm liquid seeping down her face. When she brought her hand away, it was stained red. Red with blood.

"Wh-" her voice broke and she coughed, hacking. The other woman patted her back and handed her a canteen.

"Drink, Scarlet. You haven't drank since last night."

Erza accepted the water gratefully and gulped down the cool water, easing the dryness in her parched throat. She looked hazily at the blonde woman.

"What happened?" she rasped. She looked around the room, just noticing that she was laying on a simple cot, and that she had a bandage on her right shoulder.\

"You don't remember, huh?" The blonde asked.

Erza shook her head. "Something happened the other night, that much I'm sure of. But for some reason, my mind blanks when I try and remember."

The blonde reached out a hand. "Well, first off, let me introduce myself. My name is Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia. As of where we are, and what happened, well," she sighed and swallowed.

"We've been kidnapped by the Pergrande Army, and are now the king's slaves."

Erza's eyes widened, and suddenly, her memories flooded back to her.

"_Mother! Father!" Erza screamed, reaching her hands out and running forward, even though a soldier was grabbing her arms and yanking her back. Her eyes were wide and filled with horror as a second soldier smiled harshly in front of her, pulling his sword out of her father's chest. Her father choked and coughed up blood, his hands weakly reaching out for Erza and her mother. _

"_Father!" Erza screamed, tears flooding out of her eyes. Her father fell to his knees, blood pouring out of his mouth. His eyes, which were closing rapidly, locked with Erza's. "I love you, my Scarlet," he whispered, before closing his eyes and falling to the ground with a thump._

"_No!" Erza's mother screamed, flying forward and landing next to her dead husband. "Why are you doing this? Please, stop!"_

"_Father!" Erza screamed, trying in vain to pry herself away from the soldier holding her captive. She kicked and screamed, her hair flying into her face._

"_Shut up," the soldier said coldly, whipping a dagger out and pressing it against the pulse of her throat. The action was so abrupt, and so cold, that Erza froze, the blood in her body chilling._

_Her mother's eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. "What...What are you doing? Why are you doing this?" she gasped._

_The soldier who had killed her father laughed, pointing his bloody blade at Erza's mother. "Pergrande is a big country," he cackled. "We have a big capital. And with a big capital, there's a big castle that needs cleaning."_

"_You took my husband," Erza's mother screamed, tears pouring down her face. "Don't take my daughter, please-"_

"_Don't worry," the soldier sneered. "You can join your beloved husband. Your daughter won't be needing you anymore."_

_Erza's eyes widened at the same time her mother's did. The soldier raised his sword._

"_Mother," Erza whispered. _

_Her mother smiled sadly at her. Her hands clenched the front of her husband's blood soaked shirt._

_The sword fell._

Erza blinked, trying to shake off the memory. She remember being dragged from her house, the soldier throwing a lit torch through the door and setting the house ablaze. Her town, the town when she grew up, was in flames. People were screaming, and she remembered other girls and children being dragged out of their homes.

She remembered being dragged into a large room and thrown to the ground, amongst other people. But that was it. It didn't explain the amnesia and the wound on her forehead.

"Remember?" Lucy asked. "You grabbed a soldier's sword and actually began to fight. Quite well, to be honest. But then another soldier hit you on the forehead."

Erza's mind was fuzzy, but she vaguely remembered a fight. Her father had taught her some sword skills when she was younger, but he had stopped once she had turned sixteen. He forgot, however, to get rid of his katana. She had taken it and practiced behind the house whenever he was working. She never thought she'd have to use those skill.

How wrong she was.

Lucy grasped her hand. "You fought wonderfully," the blonde whispered. "I don't know how you learned to fight like that, but whatever it was, you put up one hell of a fight."

Erza looked around. "What now?" she asked, hoping to get off the topic of her sword skills. In her mind, if she didn't come out the victor, then she didn't do well. Erza Scarlet was a proud girl, wanting only the best.

As if on cue, the door to the room opened, and a tall woman walked in. She had long black hair, and she was wearing a shining blue dress. A silver crown was nestled among the locks of her raven hair, and she glared down haughtily at Erza with dark green eyes.

The color of Envy.

"Bow to the princess Minerva!" a man's voice boomed out, and Erza narrowed her eyes. Next to her, Lucy lowered her head and slapped Erza's hand to do the same. Even though she didn't want to, Erza bowed.

"What do we have here? A ginger?" a cool voice asked, feminine and proud. Erza had no trouble in figuring out who spoke.

"On the contrary, your highness," Erza spoke out, through gritted teeth. "It's red. Scarlet, if you wish. Not ginger."

There was a moment of silence, and Erza braced herself. From the tension in the air, punishment was inevitable.

She winced as Lucy was suddenly pushed to the side, and then a hand seized the collar of her shirt and yanked her head up. Her dark brown eyes met Minerva's cold green ones, blazing with fury.

"What a pitiful little bitch," Minerva hissed scathingly. Her hand tightened its grip on Erza's throat. The red head gritted her teeth, but held herself still.

Minerva looked into her eyes. "No fear," the princess murmured. She suddenly let go of Erza's shirt, and backed away. Erza leaned over, coughing and pounding her chest, trying to get air into her tight lungs.

"You're one proud girl," Minerva said, walking away. She looked over her shoulder at Erza and Lucy. "It'll be a pleasure breaking your spirit."

_**Three weeks later**_

Erza sighed, pushing the hair out of her eyes. With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, she pulled the unruly locks away from her face and tied them back in a messy bun.

She looked around, frowning. She was standing in the washroom of the palace, folding the clean linens of princess Minerva. The washroom itself was hot and sticky, leaving Erza hot and sweaty.

"Erza?" A voice asked, and the redhead turned. She smiled upon seeing Lucy enter the room, a basket of clean laundry in her arms.

"Hi there, Lucy," Erza murmured, folding the last towel and placing it in her laundry basket. "How are you?"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I forgot that the king asked for his golden blankets be washed and laundered. I have to put these away and then run up to get the right linens. How about you?"

Erza hefted the basket of laundry, wincing. "I have to bring these up to Minerva, otherwise she'll have my head."

Lucy smiled faintly. Erza could see the fatigue in the blonde's eyes, and felt a twinge of pity for her. Ever since the encounter with Minerva a few weeks ago, Erza and Lucy had been given the most menial of tasks, making them the drudges of the castle.

Erza walked forward and patted Lucy on the shoulder. "I'll see you later," the redhead promised. The two of them usually ate lunch together in their shared room, a cramped little space that was large enough to fit two beds and a desk.

"Sure thing. I'll see if I can get Yajima to give us a few extra loaves of bread," Lucy said, turning to watch Erza's receding back.

Erza trudged up the stairs, heading through the courtyard. She noticed a small opening near the bottom of the wall, but paid it no mind. It had caught her attention, but she'd investigate later.

She shivered and looked up at the sky, noticing the stormy clouds above, tinted yellow. "Looks like snow," she whispered, pulling her cloak tighter around her body.

She made her way to the princess's chambers, knocking politely and waiting for permission to enter. Once she was given the ok, she opened the door and walked through the entrance.

Minerva was laying on her large, queen sized bed, reading a book. She eyed Erza when she came in, but didn't say a word. Erza, in turn, ignored the princess's presence and walked over to the large closet, dumping the basket on the ground.

"Miss Scarlet," Minerva called over, looking up from her novel. "If you would please, try and be quiet over there. I am trying to read."

Erza looked over at the princess and felt a sudden urge to throw the basket at her. Despite her consciousness screaming at her to do so, she nodded politely and bent down, taking the linens and placing them neatly in the closet.

Erza hated being and servant. She wanted her old life back, working in the fields with her father, making dinner with her mother, playing with the other children in the town.

There was a boy from her town, a boy called Simon. They had grown up together, and many people in the town has seen them as lovers. Rumors had spread about the two, and to Erza it felt like the town wanted the two of them to elope.

She had known that Simon had had feelings for her, but she wasn't so sure she reciprocated. They had kissed once- it was a sheer accident they were thrown into such as coincidental situation. Erza had felt no romantic feelings for him.

And now, he was dead. Granted, she didn't seem him die, but deep in her gut, she knew that he was gone.

She felt felt a cool wetness on her cheeks and raised a hand. She started when she felt a the cool tears, and hurriedly brushed them away. She couldn't cry here. There was no point in crying over someone who was already gone.

She placed the last towel on the shelf, then picked up the basket and backed out of the closet, closing the door firmly behind her. She gave a hurried bow to Minerva, who paid no attention. She sighed and proceeded to step out the doorway, when the princess spoke up.

"Miss Scarlet," came the cold, feminine voice. Erza gritted her teeth and turned, preparing to receive whatever grueling task Minerva had planned for her now.

"Yes, your highness?" She asked with forced politeness.

Minerva looked at her through narrowed green eyes. "Do me a favor," she said, stretching languishly. "Go to the garden greenhouse and cut me a bouquet of red roses. I want to decorate my room a bit. Run along now."

Erza bowed, maybe a bit too low to be considered genuine, and said, "why of course, your majesty," in a voice dripping with sarcasm. She stepped out the door and closed it and it harder than usual before stomping down the hall.

Once she made It downstairs, she entered the courtyard. The sudden blast of cold wind chilled her, and with dismay, she saw the first snowflakes come tumbling down.

She raced through the courtyard, running for the greenhouse, which was situated on the opposite side of the yard. With cold fingers, she yanked open the door and slipped inside, reveling in the warmth. The greenhouse smelled of warm dirt and plants, of new life growing.

There was a space off to the side, full of blooming rose bushes. Erza walked over, a smile on her face as she took in the beautiful flowers. She bent down and inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of the roses permeating her nostrils.

She reached for a pair of clippers, which were hanging on the wall next to her, and cut several roses, their long slim stems falling into her palms lightly. The thorns stung slightly, but Erza handled the roses carefully, making sure not to get pricked.

Once she had a dozen or so in her hand, she straightened, placing them in her apron, making sure their heads weren't smooshed. She turned and pulled her wrap close to her, preparing for the wintery mix outside.

The snow was falling lightly, looking like small puffs of feathers floating down from the sky, which had darkened to an ominous gray. Erza's breath puffed out in front of her as she breathed, and she felt like she was breathing in pure ice.

As she was walking quickly, she passed by the opening once more, noticing for the first time, that it was barred. She looked around, spying no guards, and crept closer, her curiosity peaking.

It was too dark to see anything. In the dimness, she was able to make out what seemed to be metal door facing her, but not much else. From this angle, she could not see the floor or the surrounding walls.

"Hey, hey you!" she suddenly heard, and she whirled, noticing a guard striding towards her with an angry look on his face. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest.

"What are you doing out here?" the guard asked her, stopping a few feet away. Erza's legs trembled, but she stood firm.

"I'm sorry," she began, putting a scared tone to her voice. She gestured to the little barred window by the ground. "A mouse jumped out at me from here. I was scared."

The guard snorted. "Figures. All you women are scared of stupid things. Where are you headed?"

Erza pointed towards Minerva's chambers. "To the princess," she said. "Princess Minerva asked me to bring her roses to decorate her rooms."

The guard reached forward. "Well then," he began, taking Erza roughly by the arm and pulling her forward. "Let me escort you so you don't get scared by little rodents then, shall we?" He yanked her forward, jostling her slightly, and pulled her in the direction of the princess's bedroom.

If I had a weapon, Erza thought angrily, I'd be shoving it up your ass. Me, scared? In your dreams.

As she was being towed away, she didn't see the one rose fall from her apron and land lightly on the ground. It quivered there, the redness of it's petals contrasting with the pale white of the freshly fallen snow dusting.

A sudden gust of wind picked up. The delicate flower spun in the air, the petals remarkably staying connected to the flower as the wind tossed it to and fro. The wind died, not before sending the flower flying through the barred window.

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><p>Jellal blinked, feeling the sudden gust of wind wake him up from his slumber- doze really. He shivered, bringing his tattered blanket closer to his grimy body, wishing he had something more sustainable to warm him.<p>

His eyes narrowed when something flew in through the barred window, landing lightly before him.

It was a dark red rose, freshly cut. The flower itself was magnificent, ruby red and luscious, in the prime of its beauty. Jellal leaned forward and plucked the flower from the floor of his cell, and brought it close to his nose. The flower smelled delicious, fresh and sweet.

There was something caught between the thorns on the stem, and Jellal frowned, untangling it. When he held It up, his eyes narrowed.

It was a strand of hair, as red as the petals of the flower.

**A/N: R&R, please?**

**hope you liked it, and I promise to update all my other stories soon! Promise!**

**that new Manga chapter. Anybody? Let me just scream my feels out. I swear to god, Mashima is trying to kill me with the feels. I'm done.**

**-Wolf**


	3. Light Shines Through

**A/N: there is major OOC in this chapter, but you guys already knew that. A big thanks to AmnaK96 for being so supportive and helpful, your comments really make my day. This one's for you, my friend!**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. You guys are amazing and I am the happiest person in the world!**

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

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><p><strong>Chapter three: Light Shines Through<strong>

Jellal narrowed his eyes, fingering the strand of hair caught between his thumb and forefinger. In the weak light he examined it, noticing the way it shone. The color itself was entrancing, a fiery red that stood out from the dark gray walls of his cell.

Jellal looked at the rose held in his other hand. Even though it was the middle of winter, the flower was vibrant and full, dyed the reddest hues of the rainbow. The dark green of its leaves and stem gave off its healthiness.

He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, enjoying its sweetness. These days, which were filled with so much gloom and darkness, it was good to have a change. This rose reminded him of new life.

He looked up at the window, wondering who had dropped it. Was it by accident, or did they do it on purpose. Immediately after thinking that, Jellal shook his head. No, he thought to himself. Why would someone want to give a person like me a rose? I bet no one even knows I'm down here.

He sighed, fingering the rose in his hand, being careful to not prick his fingers on its thorns. He sat back and thought about his men, the same men who died for him. He thought about that boy who treated his wounds, and sighed bitterly. I didn't even know his name, he thought to himself.

He absentmindedly began to trace the rough scar on his leg. It was long and jagged, and he remembered the pain of the bullet carving it's path down his calf. If he hadn't moved, that same bullet would've taken the entire leg, and possibly, Jellal's life. Many of his men had died from little bullet wounds like this, not because of blood loss, but because of infection. Gangrene, blood poisoning, they had been the number one killers in his platoon.

What saved him was the Pergrande soldiers, which came as a surprise.

_"Name?" A soldier asked him gruffly, after searching him for concealed weapons, to which he had none._

_Jellal stared coldly ahead, not even flinching when another Pergrande soldier wrenched his arms behind his back and secured them with rope._

_"Jellal Fernandes." He ground out harshly._

_"Title?"_

_"Captain."_

_The soldier looked him up and down, before beckoning the one who bound the bluenette over. Jellal watched as they exchanged a few heated whispers, before the one who tied Jellal ran off._

_"Where were you headed?" The soldier asked Jellal, bending down to crouch next to the seated bluenette._

_Jellal looked down at his outstretched legs, his eyes glued to the blood soaked bandage on his calf. His eyes flickered over to the clearing, where other Pergrande soldiers were walking around, inspecting the dead bodies of his fallen comrades. Jellal's eyes narrowed when he caught a glimpse of the dark haired boy that treated his leg, and he lowered his head out of respect._

_There was a sudden smack, and Jellal's head jerked to the side as the soldier placed a blow to Jellal's temple. After a moment of trying to get his bearings, Jellal looked up into the burning eyes of the soldier._

_"I'll ask you again, where were you headed?"_

_Jellal bit his lip and looked at the soldier steadily. He sent a silent message with his eyes: go to hell._

_The soldier sneered and stood, bring up his arm and if to backhand Jellal across the face. Jellal braced himself and closed his eyes just as the hand descended._

_The pain never came, and after a minute, he opened his eyes, and looked up._

_Before him, stood the soldier, his eyes wide and glaring. His arm, which had just been positioned to come down on Jellal's head, was held upright by a strong hand, covered in black fatigues. Jellal's eyes traveled up the strong arm, across the broad torso, to rest on the handsome face._

_He had deep blue eyes and and angular face. Over his right eye, a straight scar cut through his eyebrow and slashed diagonally down the side of his temple. He had spiky blonde hair, and under his arm not holding the soldier's hand was a cap decorated with three stars._

_A lieutenant general, huh? Jellal thought to himself, his eyes narrowed with grudging respect. For someone who looked so young, he must have done something pretty spectacular to get promoted._

_"You're looking at me as if I'm an alien or something," the man said, letting go of his soldier. He looked at the man and nodded. "Stand down, corporal. At ease, and be on your way. I can handle this."_

_The soldier glared at Jellal before nodding at his superior. "Sir!" He bit out, saluting the blonde before stepping away._

_"Honestly," the blonde said, sighing and kneeling on the soft forest ground. He smiled at Jellal. "They can be so uptight. Are your men like that too?"_

_Jellal glared at the blonde. "I don't know," he said coldly, jerking his head towards the clearing. "They're all dead."_

_The blonde smiled sheepishly and scratched his head. "Yeah," he said, looking over at Jellal's dead comrades, which were being piled together, their weapons and clothes stripped from their bodies. "I'm sorry about that."_

_"No you're not," Jellal said harshly. _

_The blonde looked at him, and Jellal thought he saw regret in in the blonde's eyes. "Actually," the blonde said. "I am. I'm not particularly fond of war, and I'm not fond of killing either. But this is war, and a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."_

_He looked at Jellal thoughtfully, eyeing the patch on Jellal's coat. It was Jellal's ranking, and consisted of two identical shapes of two silver bands connected by two smaller silver bands. _

_"Captain, huh? From where?" The blonde asked._

_"Fiore," Jellal bit out._

_The blonde's eyes narrowed with interest. "Fiore, huh? I hear one of your generals was making headway in the principality of Veronica. I hear he was pushing our forces back all the way to the Boscan border. What's his name... Cheney? That's right. General Rogue Cheney."_

_Jellal licked his lips. Rogue was one of Jellal's old friends in the military academy. He had been promoted early on after winning a key battle near the border of Seven. Jellal had been there too, and had also been offered the promotion, but he had declined it. Jellal was the type of person who gave others the credit, rather than take it himself._

_"That's a well respected man," the blonde continued, jolting Jellal out of his reverie. The blonde stretched, and reached into his coat to pull out a package of cigarettes. "I'd like to meet him someday."_

_"What?" Jellal asked tersely. "So you can shove a gun in his face and pull the trigger?"_

_The blonde looked at Jellal as if the bluenette grew an extra set of eyes. "Hell no," the blonde said. "That's a man I'd like to meet just out of respect. See the thing here, uh, that's right. I never got your name."_

_Jellal looked at him. "Jellal. Jellal Fernandes."_

_The blonde smiled and inclined his head. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fernandes. And I'm general Sting Eucliffe of the Pergrande Royal army."_

_"How do you become a general at such a young age?" Jellal asked him. "You look no older than twenty."_

_"I'm twenty five," Sting said, shrugging. "And the reason why I'm a general is because I'm the king's nephew."_

_Jellal's eyes flew open in shock. "The king's nephew?" He spluttered. "What are the likes of you doing out here? Shouldn't you be holed up in the capital right now, if you're a part of the noble family?"_

_Sting looked at him, at hard glint in his blue eyes. "That doesn't matter to the king," he said sharply. "I'm not his direct kin, so it doesn't matter. Being a general was the most he did for me."_

_Jellal's eyes narrowed. "Oh really?" He asked, interested._

_Sting waved him away. "That doesn't matter. I'm here, and it's not gonna change. The king's words are the law. And that's not the topic of our conversation. As I was saying before, I don't like war. It forces men to kill each other for no good reasons._

_"I met a man once, on the battlefield, somewhere in the heart of Minstrel. Had he and I but met at an inn at any other place in time, we would have sat and enjoyed a meal together._

_"But no, he and I met in the heart of a battle, staring face to face. I shot at him as he at me, and I killed him."_

_Sting sighed, lighting his cigarette and taking at long drag of it before continuing._

_"I shot him, well, he was my foe. He obviously shot at me for the same reason. Ah, war is such a curious thing. You shoot someone dead, even though he could be a friend at a different time. What a waste of life."_

_Jellal narrowed his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked Sting, never taking his eyes off of the blonde's face._

_Sting shrugged. "See the thing is, Jellal, I actually like you, and at any other place in time you and I could've been friends. I don't want to kill you, which is why I'm going to send you to the capital as a prisoner of war. You won't be killed, you have my word. I send many of my captives there, and the king uses them as laborers. That is the best I can do for you. I don't kill people without reason."_

_"You have a perfectly legitimate reason," Jellal pointed out. "We could've been friends in a different life, but we're not. I sit before you as an enemy. It would be far easier to kill me."_

_"I don't walk on the easy road," Sting said. "And they don't call me the White Dragon for nothing."_

_"White Dragon?" Jellal asked, confused at the odd nickname._

_Sting stood, dropping the cigarette on the ground and snuffing out it's end with the heel of his boot. "You don't know the legend?" He asked. Jellal shook his head._

_Sting chuckled. "It's an old Chinese myth. This dragon protected kings and spirits of virtue and purity. It was a merciful being and was also known as the White Tiger of the West."_

_Sting turned to go. "Mercy is my name. I'm sure king Ivan is tired of me sending him more and more prisoners, but I don't kill. And as for you, my friend, I pray that if we meet again, we can sit down and have a proper conversation, maybe over a mug of beer and a meal."_

Jellal often thought of the noble general who spared his life, and he often wondered what Sting was doing, whose life he was sparing this time.

He's right, Jellal thought. War is is a mindless killing machine that turns men who could've been friends into enemies.

He thought about the boy again, and remembered the White Dragon's words.

_What a waste of life._

Yes, Jellal thought. A waste indeed.

Then he took another look another the rose in his hand, and smiled faintly.

"But yet," he murmured, bringing the rose up to his nose and inhaling deeply. "There is hope."

Even in such a desolate and cold world, in the middle of a brutal and relentless winter and a war taking countless lives, a rose was able to grow, symbolizing new life, new hope.

* * *

><p>"How many prisoners are currently being held here?" The man said, sighing happily as a female servant ran her hands over the smooth contours of his abdomen. He was reclining on a wide sofa, and had other female servants waiting on him. He called one over and she came, holding a platter full of red grapes.<p>

"Seven, your majesty," said a man hidden in the shadows. "All sent here by General Eucliffe. Many of the others we sent to the prison on the outskirts of the capital. Eucliffe asked for these seven to be sent here personally."

"Really?" asked the man on the sofa, his dark green eyes narrowing in interest. "Pray tell, who are these prisoners that caught Sting's eye so strongly?"

He suddenly moaned as the female servant touched a rather sensitive spot on his chest. "Just like that, sweetheart," he murmured. Another woman came behind him and began to run her fingers through his long blonde hair, removing his maroon hat with pink plumage.

The other man ignored the situation. "Just a few prisoners of war. Nothing too special. And, of course, our _special _guest."

"Ah," the blonde man said, raising his head in interest. "That one. I fear I've been neglecting him lately. How about we let them loose in the courtyard today, let them loosen their legs out. I want them in top shape. Father says the ground is almost soft enough. We have all those dead POWs in the prison that need to be buried."

The man in the shadows nodded. "It is such an ugly thing," he murmured. Then he bowed to the blonde. "Very well, my prince. It will be done."

"Good," the prince said. He waved his hand. "Now begone, Orga. Leave me alone."

The man, Orga, backed away. "Yes, Prince Rufus. Enjoy the rest of the day."

The prince, Rufus, turned back to the women lavishing over him, and smiled. He reached over to the one touching his chest and dragged her down, pulling her top off. He grinned as her pearly white skin was revealed, and ran his tongue down her body, laughing wickedly when she moaned.

"Oh yes, Orga," Rufus murmured, pressing his face into the woman's alabaster skin. "Yes I will."

* * *

><p>"Get up," the harsh voice of his jailer said, jolting Jellal awake. He opened his eyes blearily and looked around, blinking as the faint light irritated his eyes. He looked up and met the cold, unfeeling eyes of the guard who fed him.<p>

"What?" Jellal rasped out, his throat dry. The confusion was evident in his eyes and voice.

The guard tsked impatiently and strode forward, reaching down to yank Jellal to his feet. Jellal, still clearly puzzled, just stood there in amazement as the guard bent down and unlocked his ankle chain.

"Out," the guard said flatly, pushing Jellal forward so abruptly that the bluenette stumbled and almost fell forward, catching himself at the last minute.

Am I being executed? Jellal thought wildly, stepping forward warily. He felt the cold nozzle of a gun barrel press into the small of his back, and shuddered.

"Walk."

He did as he was told, and walked forward. The guard guided him through the rows of empty cells, and out of the prison. He was led up a grimy hallway, past a kitchen full of servants preparing a meal. His mouth watered at the smell of freshly baked bread, but the guard prodded him forward.

He had no idea where he was, until he was thrust into an open yard in the heart of the castle. Only then, did he recognize his surroundings. The castle courtyard, he realized.

The guard shoved him into the center, and threw him a ratty shirt. "Walk," the guard said. "And no funny movements. I'm watching you."

Jellal glared at him, but threw the shirt over his head- it was warmer out today, but it was still chilly, and Jellal was grateful for the warmth the shirt provided- and stumbled to the side.

There were a few other prisoners in the courtyard alongside him, six to be exact. Jellal examined each one carefully. Out of all of them, only two interested him the most.

The first was a maroon haired young man, with a scar slicing across his right eye. He had pointed ears, black eyes, narrowed narrowed and slitted like a snake, and a sharp nose. He looked around, gritting his teeth and muttering intelligible curses under his breath.

The second was a bulky blonde man. He too, had a scar slicing jagged across his right eye, resembling a lightning bolt. He had thick, burly arms and a broad chest. He walked by himself, his eyes wandering.

Jellal cautiously stepped in toe with the blonde, walking alongside him hesitantly, then with greater confidence.

After a few minutes, the blonde looked at him. "You're one brave little bastard, aren't you?" He asked in a deep voice.

Jellal looked at him. "Excuse me?" He replied, shocked.

The blonde man chuckled. "You have no idea who the hell I am, do you?"

"Am I supposed to?" Jellal asked him coldly.

The blonde man shrugged. "Didn't think so. Though I thought maybe word would've gotten around."

"Word about what?"

"My name is Laxus Dreyar, and I'm the man that attempted to kill the crown prince."

"Dreyar?" Jellal couldn't the gasp slip past his throat. "But Ivan Dreyar is the-"

"King of Pergrande, I know," Laxus said. "Prince Rufus is my older brother. Both wanted Pergrande to take over. I didn't."

Laxus looked around before continuing.

"I tried to murder my brother. My father caught me at Rufus's bedside, about ready to slit his throat. I thought I was going to be put to death for sure, but instead, Ivan throws me in the prison to rot. His punishment, I suppose. Now all I can do is sit in my cell and twiddle my thumbs while my wretched brother and ass of a father try and take over the world."

"So you tried to kill your brother-"

"So that when dear old dad died, I'd take take the throne and end this shitty war, yes," Laxus said, clenching his fist.

Jellal clapped him on the shoulder. "A valiant effort, your majesty."

"Yeah, and look at where it got me," Laxus said, shrugging. He stopped walking and looked up at the sky, where the sun was, in vain, trying to come out from behind the clouds. "Let me tell you something, Blue," he continued, stepping forward. "War is a terrible thing. You become enemies with someone who at some either point could've been your friend. It's a waste of life."

Jellal narrowed his eyes at the sound of those familiar words. "You sound like someone I once knew."

Laxus ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. "If you say the name-"

"Sting Eucliffe."

"-I'm gonna wring his neck," Laxus finished. "My cousin is still stealing my words, eh?"

"He's a good man," Jellal defended. "He spared my life when he could've ended it."

Laxus laughed ruefully. "That's Sting for you. He's a good man. You're lucky to have met him. He's a peaceful one, not a radical like myself."

The blonde man sighed. "I don't care who wins this war. I just want it to be over. And when it is, I pray that he become king of Pergrande. Out of all the people in this world, he deserves it the most."

With those final words, Laxus Dreyar stepped away from Jellal Fernandes and quietly walked away, leaving the bluenette to to his own devices.

For another few minutes, Jellal walked along quietly, keeping keeping to himself. He saw Laxus walking by himself, glaring up at the castle turrets.

A sudden movement caught Jellal's eye, and he turned his head. His eyes widened in disbelief, and his hand automatically went to his frayed pocket, which inside held the strand of hair he had taken from the rose.

The sun, which had tried so hard to come out, suddenly broke through the clouds, making Jellal raise his hand to shield his eyes. And still, he could not tear his gaze away from the sight of of the person before him.

The sun's rays illuminated her, turning her hair into into a blazing fire of red locks. Her eyes were wide and brown, shining with warmth. She had high cheekbones and plump lips, which were smiling at her companion, a blonde girl. She was beautiful, but not beautiful as the red haired goddess that held Jellal's attention.

She turned, and her eyes locked with Jellal's own green ones. It was then, at that very moment, Jellal found the embodiment of his hope, his light.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: so for Sting's character, I took the side of him after he became master of Sabertooth and adopted a more humble demeanor, and made it my own. I like him a lot better this way, rather than his conceited, asInine side.**

**if anyone is confused about the description of Jellal's rank, here's the link that'll have the picture:**

** en. wiki/United_States_Army_officer_rank_insignia**

**See ya soon!**

**-Wolf**


	4. A Name of Greatness

****A/N: Happy new year to everyone! I can't believe it is now 2015. *Shudders* in a few months, I'll be in college. Good god, where does the time go?****

****Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. Arigato gozaimasu, minna san!****

****I forgot to tell you, but the story Sting told Jellal in the last chapter about meeting a man was inspired off of Thomas Hardy's ******_**The Man He Killed. **_******It's a poem, and I'm not usually a fan of poetry, but this one was a perfect fit for the chapter. It's pretty catchy too.****

****I hope you enjoy the new year, and this chapter too! love you guys!****

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Chapter four: A Name of Greatness<strong>**

He is a son of man, kissed by the gods.

So Erza Scarlet thought as her gaze sought out the blue haired man with the strange red tattoo on the side of his face. He had deep green eyes and an angular jawline. Even though his face was grimy, the dirt did not make him any less attractive.

His neck was the epitome of a masculine neck; thick, with a large adam's apple covered by tan skin. It met his shoulders and collarbones, which were prominent due to the lack of nutrition, but Erza had the feeling that they were exemplary when he was in the prime of health.

The shirt he wore was loose and a tad too big, the neckline dropping low enough to let Erza see a peek of his pectoral muscles, which were broad and tan, if not a bit thin. Erza had no doubt it was because he was being poorly taken care of.

His arms were well muscles and strong looking, also a tad thin. His hands were calloused and rough, but at the same time, held a look of such gentleness, Erza could help but smile.

She found herself drawn back to his eyes. While she was admiring him, she and Lucy had been walking closer, nearing him. At this close of a distance, she found out that his eyes weren't completely green. They were the color of a forest, deep green mixed in with brown, the like the trunks of tree peeking through the masses of leaves. When the light of the sun hit him, the bits of gold sparkled in his eyes.

He looked sad, and hopeful at the same time, if such a thing was possible. Erza found herself drawn to him, wanting to reach out and brush his hand, cup his cheek in her palm. Immediately upon thinking these thoughts, she flushed red, and looked away.

"I think they're prisoners," Lucy whispered to her as they walked past. "Look. The bluenette has shackles on his wrists."

Erza felt her eyes betray her and she looked over at the bluenette once more, despite the blush evident on her cheeks. What she saw on his wrists were two manacle-like bracelets, which were chafing his skin. It looked painful, and Erza bit her lip.

His eyes flickered over to meet hers, and they widened upon catching sight of her. There was a flicker of life in those lifeless eyes, like a renewal of the soul. Like a bird caught in a cage, it fluttered there, weak and barely hanging on.

It was a flicker of hope, of yearning for something thought to be lost.

"They look...forlorn," Lucy said, her eyes following a big blonde man with a scar on his right eye. "Alone and hopeless, like they've lost their fight."

Erza nodded. "Like a candle in a hurricane." Her words were true to the prisoners standing in the yard, six of them. True to all but one.

He began to walk after a guard yelled at him to "move your ass, Fernandes! We haven't got all day!"

Fernandes. So his name was Fernandes.

Erza doubted it was his first name. She figured it was something elegant and unique, just like him. He was a demigod in her eyes, blessed by the heavenly beings themselves.

She and Lucy walked out of the courtyard, and she couldn't resist looking over her shoulder one more time to look at him.

Her eyes met his forest ones, and she saw his lips lift in a faint smile before he disappeared from view.

* * *

><p>She waited three more days before she saw him again.<p>

In those three, long, agonizingly slow days, it snowed, a ceaseless, unrelenting snow that laid several inches on the ground and left a bitter chill in the air. Erza woke up each day with her breath billowing out in front of her in thick, white clouds. She shivered each time and brought her blanket closer to her body, wrapping her shoulders in the brown coverlet and cocooning herself.

On the third day she woke up in the same routine: her breath fogging in the chilly air, and hugging the blanket closer to herself. She looked out her window and noticed the snow had stopped, coating everything outside in a sparkling blanket of virgin snow. The sky above remained bleak and sunless, the clouds overcast and murky. Erza could hear the wind whistling through the thin walls of her room, a faint screeching sound that reminded her of a ghost's eerie wail. She shivered, more creeped out by her thoughts rather than the cold.

She slipped out of bed and stumbled past the sleeping Lucy, who was nestled in her blankets and looked like a slumbering dormouse sleeping amidst a nest of blankets.

Erza tiptoed quietly past her friend and opened the door to their shared room, walking out into the servant common room. It was about seven in the morning, and there were several people gathered, none that Erza shared acquaintances with.

She sat down on worn out cushion chair and sighed. She stretched, extending her arms out behind her and arching her back in a graceful, catlike motion. She was still wearing her nightshirt and bed pants, but she didn't care.

"Erza Scarlet?" a voice said, and she looked up, dropping her arms and relaxing her position. She blinked, looking into the face of a young woman with jet black hair. She had tied a white cloth around her head, the bow sticking out on the top of her head. She wore a white shirt tucked into a black skirt, and a loose tie circled her neck.

She looked Erza up and down with a careful scrutiny, as if looking for flaws. Erza stared back at her evenly, unflinchingly.

"That would be my name," she said in a quiet voice.

The black haired young woman ran a hand through her long black hair. "Kagura Mikazuchi. Princess Minerva's head servant. The lady wants you in her bed chambers. Now."

Erza sighed and stood up. "As in, right now?" she muttered.

Kagura nodded. "I'd hurry if I were you," she said with gritted teeth. "The lady does not like being displeased. You should go now, before she becomes impatient."

"Right," Erza said dryly. "Let me just fly up to her. Oh wait," Erza pantomimed searching her pockets and coming up empty, "I forgot my fairy dust today. Guess I'll have to walk, like _every other human on this planet."_

Kagura smirked. "I'll tell the princess you said that." The threat in her voice was light, like even she didn't back herself up.

Erza turned on her heels and stormed back to her room. "You do that," she shot over her shoulder. "Tell the lady Minerva that I'm only human, after all."

Before the dark haired woman could respond, Erza was already slamming the door behind her with a brutal force, her hands flat against the wood and her chest heaving with anger.

"Blue Bloods," she hissed under her breath. "They're all the same."

"What are you complaining about now, Scarlet?" she heard Lucy's sleepy voice mumble, and the redhead turned to see the blonde sit up, the blankets falling around her. The blonde's hair was a mess- as it usually was in the morning- and she was rubbing her eyes, yawning all the while. Her nightshirt hung off one shoulder, but the blonde didn't seem to notice.

The redhead sighed and went to her small dresser that she and Lucy shared, opening the creaky wooden drawers and pulling out a pair of trousers and a shirt. "The witch beckons," she said, pulling her nightshirt over her head and tossing onto her unmade cot.

Lucy sat up straight, fully awake. "Why does she want you this early? It's Sunday, for crying out loud. Can't the princess sleep in, like a normal person?"

Erza shrugged. "Who knows? But I have to go now, otherwise "the lady does not like being displeased." She'll throw a fit and who knows what else."

Lucy got out of bed and looked out the window. "Well, if she makes you go outside, be sure to dress warmly," the blonde said, going to the foot of her bed and picking up a long piece of clothing. She offered the vestment to Erza, giving the redhead a smile. "Here. Borrow my cloak, lest you freeze to death. I don't want to find you later as a statue of ice."

Erza smiled and took the cloak, draping it over her arm. She hugged Lucy in gratitude. "Thanks, Lucy," she murmured, before pulling away. The she looked at the door. "Gotta go, before the lady gets mad."

Lucy smiled. "Go." The blonde shooed the redhead away. "I'll see you later."

* * *

><p>"I'm throwing a birthday ball for my brother in a few days," Princess Minerva said, lounging on her bed while Erza bent respectfully in front of her. "I need more flowers to decorate the throne room. Are there anymore in the greenhouse?"<p>

"Why of course, your majesty," Erza grumbled.

Minerva smiled and stretched languishly, the sequins on her golden dress glinting in the light. She reached to the side and picked up a glass off her bed table, bringing it to her wine red lips and taking a hearty sip.

"Go and cut more for me," Minerva said after she finished swallowing. "I need them to fill seven vases, and I only want red flowers, those red roses in particular. You hear me?"

"Yes," Erza muttered.

Minerva glared down at the redhead. ""Yes" what?" she said, the veil of a threat evident in her voice.

"Yes, my lady," Erza said, clenching her fists and gritting her teeth. She had the urge to get up and strangle the woman, but refrained from doing so.

There was a shuffling sound as bedsheets were moved, and then the soft padding of quiet footsteps that grew louder as they approached. Erza braced herself.

A finger found it's way to Erza's chin, forcing the redhead's face upwards. She blinked into the harsh light as Minerva's face came into focus, a malicious glint in her poisonous green eyes.

"I said that I'd break you," the princess hissed. Her hand curled around Erza's cheeks, her nails digging into the skin. "It all depends on how you'd like to be broken. You can break hard, or you can break easy, Erza Scarlet. It is entirely up to you."

She let go of Erza's face and pushed the redhead away so that she sprawled on the ground. Erza shook herself, trying to get up, only to cry out as Minerva stomped her foot down on Erza's hand.

"I wasn't done talking yet," the princess cooed. Erza looked up at her through her bangs, her eyes narrowed in hatred.

"You could pass for nobility with those looks of yours," Minerva continued, gazing down at the redhead. "If I were to dress you in fine silks and chiffon, maybe lace, you could pass as a princess."

She stepped off of Erza's hand. "But you're not. And so you shall remain as a pitiful serving girl, with only rags and grime to her name."

She turned her back. "Go now, Erza Scarlet, and do my bidding. Elsewise, there will be consequences."

* * *

><p>"How are you faring, my beautiful sister?"<p>

Minerva turned her elegant head and smiled serenely at the man standing in the doorway. His blonde hair was brushed back and tied in a loose ponytail, and he wore a pair of dark trousers tucked into boots. His white button down shirt hung open, exposing the smooth skin of his chest.

"You look pleased, my brother. Did my present to you do her job well?" Minerva said, getting up from her chair and walking over to the blonde.

Prince Rufus chuckled darkly. The memory of the slave woman was still fresh in his mind, and he could still hear her moans of pleasure if he concentrated hard enough.

"She was wonderful," he purred, taking Minerva's hand. "But you know, my sister, I require something that gives me more of a fight."

"I require a challenge."

She kissed his cheek, her hands running through his long blonde hair. "I know, I know," she murmured. "I do have another for you, but she requires a bit more work on my part before I hand her over to you," she whispered, pressing her lips against his ear.

He pulled away from her and kissed her forehead. "This is why you are my beloved sister. You are the only person who truly knows me, and for that, I thank you."

She chuckled and turned around, settling back in her chair. "My dearest brother," she said, making herself comfortable. "I do love making sure you are happy, but could you do the same for me?"

He bowed. "What would my lady want that would please her? A new horse? More servants? Please, sister, you only need to ask, and you shall receive."

She ran a finger down her chin, past her neck, until it came to rest under her navel. "I want something stimulating. Something pleasurable."

His eyes glittered and narrowed in interest. "And this something would be?"

She smiled. "I want the finest of men, who can please me in every way possible?"

Rufus scratched his head. "There are many male consorts who would die to have the pleasure of becoming yours-"

"I will choose who I want," Minerva interrupted. "Then you will give him to me, no matter who he is. Can you do that for me, brother? In return, I will give you the finest beauty. I can tell you that when I have tamed her fiery spirit, she will provide you with every pleasure known to man."

"Why must she be tamed?"

"She needs her spirit reined in otherwise she will never bow to our wills. And she is my servant, and rightfully mine to be broken. But don't worry, my dear brother," she said, smiling, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"When she is subdued, you can do whatever you want to her."

His eyes glittered with anticipation. "May I ask you her name?" he asked, nearly begging. His thirst for knowledge was almost palpable, nearly dripping off his person.

She thought for a minute. "The fire in her eyes is reflected off her vermillion hair," she murmured. "She is Scarlet."

Prince Rufus smiled, an eerie smile that could frighten even the most bravest of souls. "Scarlet," he purred. "What a wonderful name. I will remember it, surely I will."

* * *

><p>The subtle sounds of crunching snow alerted Erza even before she opened the courtyard door. Her eyes narrowed, she wondered who else could possibly be outside on such a cold and desolate winter day.<p>

The door opened, and Erza blinked, her eyes widening with surprise. The basket in her hand dropped to land in the snow, yet she did not bend down to retrieve it. Her eyes and her attention were drawn to the man standing before her.

He wore the same clothes as before, as well as the shackles on his wrists. The only difference in his appearance was a pair of boots on his feet and a ratty jacket covering his torso.

He stood with two other men. One had maroon hair, while the other had dark blue hair. Each man was working quietly in their own corner of the courtyard, each equipped with a shovel.

The bluenette that captured Erza's attention, Fernandes, was working near the greenhouse. His arms moved tirelessly, despite the dark circles of fatigue around his forest eyes. He didn't notice Erza, for he had his back to her. His shaggy blue hair stood out in the gray light of winter, a startling contrast against the dismal light.

There was a guard standing off to the side, his eyes narrowed as he watched the three men working. His right hand rested on his gun holster, while the other gripped a spear, the handle of the weapon sticking in the snow.

Erza shook herself, and bent down, picking up her basket. Hurriedly, she walked over to the guard and asked if it was alright to walk through the courtyard to the greenhouse.

"Don't be scared miss," the guard said with a smirk. He gestured to the men working in the courtyard. "They can't harm ya. If they tried, I'd put a bullet through their heads before they even laid a finger on you."

Erza wasn't asking out of fear. She wasn't scared of men, and she could certainly hold her own against one.

This is how stupid some men are, she thought angrily to herself as she walked through the courtyard. Not all women are sniveling cowards that hide behind men.

As she passed the bluenette, a shiver ran through him. He froze in his work, and stopped shoveling. Erza's breath caught in her throat as he turned, those forest eyes landing on her and freezing her in her tracks.

He was so beautiful.

She wondered if sculptors who made marble statues had used him as their inspiration. His chiseled face and handsome looks set him apart from other men.

Erza lowered her gaze and opened the door to the greenhouse, flushing from the bluenette's stare. Once inside, she slammed the door and heaved a deep breath, smelling the warm scent of dirt and plants.

She looked around, smiling as she saw all the flowers blooming. She was automatically drawn to a morning glory the color of _his _hair, a deep azure that reminded Erza of a clear summer sky.

The bed of red roses was next to the morning glory. The flowers were deep ruby red, a scarlet color for which Erza had been named. The flower heads were many in number, Erza noted. Minerva would be pleased.

Erza bent down, picking up the clippers as she went, and started cutting roses. This task was quick and simple, and she much preferred doing this than cooking in the kitchen, or cleaning the many rooms in the palace.

A cold breeze alerted her, and she turned, her eyes narrowed. There must be a hole in the wall, she thought to herself. She looked around, trying to spot the break. She stood still and let the wind rush past her, trying to feel where it was coming from.

She turned in a particular direction and found the hole. It was about eye height, and was the size of her head. She frowned, walking towards it. What the hell made this? she wondered.

Her question was answered as soon as she was a foot away from the break. She stepped forward, and was splashed with something cold. With a small yelp, she jumped back, and noticed the puddle of water on the ground. In it floated chunks of what was unmistakably ice.

So that was what did this, she thought. It must've been flung by the wind and broke through the plastic.

The greenhouse was made of an insulated plastic cover, which kept the cold out and the heat inside. Even though it was protective against the harshness outside, it didn't protect against flying ice, as Erza so found out.

She crept closer. She could see outside, and she narrowed her eyes. She saw the castle wall, mounds of snow, and then something else. Her eyes widened, and she gasped.

Standing before her, oblivious to her presence, was the Fernandes man. He seemed to be taking a break, leaning against his shovel and sipping out of a flask. His hair was drenched in sweat, and his face glistened. Erza could see his chest heaving and see the tremor in his arms as he lifted the flask to his lips.

She coughed, and he froze, the muscles in his throat stopping him from swallowing. He lowered the flask, and turned, his eyes meeting hers.

Immediately, Erza blushed, the crimson flush spreading on her cheeks and warming her face. His handsome face was mesmerizing, catching the redhead in a trance.

She cleared her throat. "What-" she broke off as her throat became dry. She cleared it again, the heat in her face rising. "What's your name?"

He looked at her with a fascination, as if she were the only woman he'd ever see. His eyes searched her face, as if trying to find deception written somewhere in her features. He found none, only honest curiosity.

Erza waited with bated breath for him to speak. He swallowed, his eyes never leaving her face as he screwed the cap back onto his flask and let it drop to the ground.

"My name?" he whispered, in a deep, velvety voice. It was a handsome sound, baritone and smooth, captivating and alluring. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged. "I'm curious." His voice resonated within her, and she yearned to hear it again.

A faint smile appeared on his lips, and to Erza, it was as brilliant as the sun. He looked around quickly, as if searching for the guard. After a minute, he turned back to her.

"Jellal," He said quietly. "My name is Jellal Fernandes."

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><p><strong>AN: This was a fun chapter to write, and I think it was because describing Jellal is always my favorite. He is my favorite character in Fairy Tail, and I don't understand why there can't be a real life guy like him. Honestly, he is like the epitome of perfection. At least, in my eyes.**

**Alright, that's enough of my ramble. As I said earlier, enjoy the new year!**

**-Wolf**


	5. A Matter of Perspective

**A/N: I've given up trying to give creative excuses for my late updates, because I have no veritable reason for my lateness.**

**thanks for reviewing, favoriting, and following. Much appreciated guys, and please, don't stop!**

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><p><strong>Chapter five: A Matter of Perspective<strong>

When she spoke, it was like angels were heralding the arrival of the gods. When she spoke, it was like a beautiful summer's day, full of light and warmth. When she spoke, Jellal forgot all sense of time. It was as if everything stopped, and the two of them were transported to their own different world. There was no winter, there was no war. He was not a prisoner of Pergrande, and she was not a servant. They simply were.

"My name?" he whispered, his voice deep and slow, as if words were foreign to him. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged. "I'm curious," were the next words out of her mouth, and Jellal was captivated by the deep richness in her velvety voice. It was like chocolate, rich and smooth, sweet and mysterious. Jellal longed to hear it again.

"Jellal," he said quietly, after looking around to make sure the guard wasn't looking. "My name is Jellal Fernandes."

He heard her intake of breath, and saw the glimmer of interest in her warm brown eyes. "I thought so..." he heard her breathe.

He frowned, and leaned on his shovel, balling his fists and shoving them in his armpits to keep them warm. "What do you mean? And last I remember, it's only kind to give me your name, as I have given mine." He murmured quietly, intentionally keeping his voice hushed, lest the guard overheard.

"Erza," she said. "My name is Erza Scarlet. And as for your question, I said I thought so. When I saw you the other day in the courtyard, I wondered what your name was. I figured it was a name of greatness, and I wasn't mistaken. The name, "Jellal" means greatness, superiority, renowned. It suits you."

Jellal was warmed by her words, and if not a little proud. What man wouldn't be when an attractive woman compliments them.

"Erza Scarlet," Jellal mused, eyeing her bright red hair. It was such a profound shade of scarlet, the type of crimson that reminded him of fire. "That name suits you."

She blushed, her cheeks turning a pale pink, like the color of a ripe peach. She looked away, breaking their eye contact. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"No, really," Jellal pursued, taking another look around to make sure he was safe from prying eyes. "Scarlet. That way I'll never forget."

Those words seemed to linger with Erza, and she turned her magnificent gaze on Jellal once more. Her piercing eyes sent a shiver racing down Jellal's spine, and he met her stare evenly.

"That's an interesting tattoo," she said after a moment of pure, unadulterated silence. "How'd you come to have it?"

His hand came up to touch the side of his face. "I don't know. I was born with it, and I never got a chance to ask my parents."

She frowned. "Why is that?" she asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

He sighed. Talking about family had always been a hard task to overcome. For years, he buried their memory beneath layers and layers of guilt and regret. He became a bit of a drinker from time to time, thinking that he could drink his sorrows away. But it never worked.

"I enlisted in the army to get away from my family," he explained, keeping a wary eye on the guard, who seemed to be drowsing off. "My father, Siegrain, died several years beforehand, leaving me as the patriarch.

"But I didn't want to be. I was only around thirteen when he died. I didn't want the responsibility of taking care of my family. My mother was penniless, and my sister was only a few years old at the time."

He looked away. "So I enlisted to run away from my family. In a way, I feel like that was the right thing to do, since I never became the man of the house my family so desperately needed."

Erza Scarlet bit her lip, which Jellal found to be incredibly endearing. She got a faraway look in her eyes and her cheeks puffed out a bit like a fish. Jellal smiled at the thought.

"Fernandes!" a voice yelled, causing the two to jump in fear. Jellal turned, his eyes narrowing as the guard strode over, an angry look on his face.

Erza felt a wave of fear wash over her, not for herself, but for Jellal. He was a prisoner of Pergrande, and he shouldn't have been talking to her in the first place.

"Follow my lead," she heard him breathe out. He hadn't turned to her, but kept his body facing the direction of the fuming guard.

"Fernandes," the guard said, stopping right in front of Jellal. "What the hell are you doing?"

"A piece of ice flew down from the wall and tore through the greenhouse while this lady was cutting flowers inside," Jellal lied smoothly, the falsity slipping off his tongue, as smooth as wine. "I was simply investigating."

"The guard looked on with narrowed eyes, which slid over to meet Erza's. She gulped and stared evenly into his dark beady eyes, which, along with his scrunched up nose and mousy hair, made him look like a weasel. "Is this man correct?" The soldier asked her gruffly.

Erza found it extremely hilarious that the soldier was conducting an investigation through a hole in the wall. But she bit her lip to keep her laughter at bay, and said in a clear voice, "Yes sir."

Behind the guard, Jellal nodded discreetly, giving her a thumbs up.

The soldier narrowed his eyes, turning back to Jellal. "Get back to work, Fernandes," he snarled. The threatening tone in his voice seemed rather tinny compared to his large bulk, and Jellal glared at him tiredly. At any other point in life, when he was well fed and in shape, Jellal would have knocked this man down in a heartbeat. Now, it was all he could do to nod wearily and pick up his shovel.

The soldier glared at Erza, who hurriedly picked her roses and shoved them in her apron. With the soldier's eyes upon her, she rushed out of the greenhouse and raced across the courtyard, her long red hair flying out behind her. It reminded Jellal of fire again, like tongues of flames snapping and reaching up into the sky, growing stronger as it sucked in more air.

"Work," the soldier said again, gripping his gun. His dark eyes burned into Jellal's back as the bluenette picked up his shovel and began to move snow, this time with less energy. His eyes darted back to the courtyard doors, where he had seen Erza disappear.

I didn't even get to tell her about the rose, he thought. Resigning himself to that fate, he picked up another pile of snow, tossing it over his shoulder. Now that he had stopped to chat with the red haired woman, his body had chilled substantially enough so that he shivered constantly. His fingers became numb, and his breath billowed out in front of him like flat, gray clouds.

He longed for warmth. He wanted to snuggle up in front of a fire, a mug of steaming cider in his hands. He would even do with a blanket.

And then he thought of Erza's words. "_The name, "Jellal" means greatness, superiority, renowned. It suits you."_

And that thought warmed his bones and heated his blood once more. He hummed a forgotten melody underneath his breath, and wondered when he'd see the scarlet beauty again.

* * *

><p>Minerva liked power. She also liked her men to do what they were told, and not fight her words. That was why so many of the men she courted ended up at the executioner's block. None of them would bend to her will.<p>

But she also didn't mind a challenge. If a man interested her, she didn't mind playing a game of tame and master, and break the man's will. After all, it was a game that she'd always win.

She looked out her window, watching the prisoners toil away in the courtyard. There wasn't a large amount of snow on the ground, but it made up for amount in density. The snow was wet and heavy, making the work even more arduous than it already was.

Two of the prisoners were already slacking, their limbs shaking with fatigue. Minerva narrowed her eyes as she saw them weaken, stopping to catch frequent breaks to catch their breath.

Only one continued his work. Even under the strain and the harsh bitterness from the cold, he worked tirelessly, staying focused on the task at hand.

He had dark blue hair. Minerva could not make out detailed features, but she thought she saw something that looked like a red smudge on his face. Blood maybe, from from a cut? Birthmark?

Whatever It was, it intrigued the princess. She could already make out his muscular body, which looked just a tad frail, but she liked what she saw. A little bit of pampering and he'd fill out nicely.

He seemed to have spirit, judging from the way he worked effortlessly while his fellow inmates dropped like flies. There was no doubt that that strong body contained a strong spirit, which Minerva longed to own for herself.

She remembered that he was one of Rufus's POWs. She also remembered that Rufus had promised her any man she so desired.

She licked her lips. Her eyes stayed glued onto the figure of the blue haired man while she summoned a mid to her bedchambers. When the servant did arrive, her eyes remained fixed on her prize.

"Bring me prince Rufus," she breathed out. "I have found what I desire."

She had no doubt that he'd be a bit hard to break, but for him, she'd play. A man like him was hard to come around, and she'd find pleasure in breaking his spirit, which was hers to tame.

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><p>Jellal reclined against the wall in his cell, staring at the meager meal in front of him, consisting of a piece of bread, a hunk of moldy cheese, and a tin of water. He didn't feel the urge to eat, or drink. He had had water while working, but for some reason, he didn't have an appetite, even after all his hard work.<p>

His mind was still on the fiery redhead. He eyed the rose, which was now limp and dull, laying by his cot. Despite it's lack of vivacity, he could still smell the sweet aroma of the flower, which was strong and alluring, just like a certain scarlet woman.

She reminded him of an old friend from long ago, a young woman named Ultear Milkovich. They looked nothing alike, while Erza was fire, Ultear was night, but they possessed the same strong spirit, they had the same fire in their eyes. Ultear had ultimately joined the navy and was killed at sea, sunk by an enemy torpedo. She had had a chance to escape her ship before it went down, as senior commander, but she had refused to leave her comrades.

Jellal had felt the loss of Ultear's absence the most. They had been childhood friends, and she had helped him get past the loss of his father. They had never been close like lovers, but they had shared an intimate bond of close, co-ed friends.

She had also left behind a young girl, named Meredy. Her father had been a soldier in the army who was killed in action. Meredy had been raised by Ultear's mother, Ul. In a way, Jellal had blamed the young girl for his friend's death, because if Ultear had never met the man, then she would have never enlisted and gotten herself killed.

But he was also glad that Ultear's daughter was around him. She provided a living proof that Ultear's memory was real, and her legacy continued on. Jellal, in lieu of his prior reasons to enlist, also felt the need to continue protecting Ultear's remaining heir. It was for those two reasons that he enlisted: to run away from his family duties, and to protect his best friend's honor as a soldier.

When he first enlisted in the army, he had felt guilty of abandoning his family. Wendy was so young then, and his mother was always weak and tired from working hard to support the family. Jellal should've helped out, but he was young and foolish, too stupid to realize how important it was to help support his family.

Once he was a few months into training did he realize. He began to send all of his wages to his mother, with little letters telling her what to buy. Sometimes he bought them food, or other necessities, like soap. It was his way of saying, "I'm sorry for the past. Here's hope we can have a better future."

Ultear had taught him that. They had had many fights when they were young, over reasons that Jellal had forgotten over time. There had been long periods when they didn't talk at all, and one fight ended with a shiner across Jellal's cheek and tears pooling in Ultear's eyes.

But every time they fought, Ultear would come up to him at a later time with a bowl of strawberries (his favorite) and a tentative smile on her face.

"_The past is the past," _She would say, giving him the fruit as a peace offering. "_Here's hope we can have a better future."_

Jellal used her words as a means to live everyday.

He blinked, suddenly noticing the streaks of wetness dripping down his cheeks. He put a hand to his face and touched his cheeks. They came back wet, and Jellal came to the realization that he was crying.

It's a waste, he thought bitterly, trying to dash away his tears, but no avail. There's no use mourning over things already gone.

He wasn't even sure who he was crying about: Ultear's tragic death, or the untimely massacre of his mother and sister and village. He wasn't proud for crying. A man shouldn't cry, not a man like him. He had always been prone to keeping his emotions held on a tight leash. He never told anyone how he felt, or what he was thinking. When in the army, he was given the nickname, "Mystogan," as an alias for his mysterious and quiet being.

His ankle chain rattled as he suddenly shifted on the cold cement floor. He glared at it angrily. What was the point in chaining him when he was completely shackle-free in the courtyard? He was being held prisoner in a giant fortress, in the middle of the largest and most powerful kingdom in Earthland. Even if he somehow escaped the giant citadel, he wouldn't make it two miles past the ramparts before he'd be captured once more.

"Jellal," he suddenly heard a voice whisper.

There was a familiarity when the voice said his name, as if they already knew him. With a start, he looked up, meeting a pair of dark blue eyes peeping out from a soldier's helmet. The man standing before him placed his hands on the bars of Jellal's cell, staring intently at the prisoner.

"How do you know my name?" Jellal hissed quietly, leaning forward, an intent look of concentration upon his face.

The blue eyed man- Jellal assumed it was a man from the deep tones of the voice- chuckled, and lifted his visor. "Well I think a long time friend should know your name, shouldn't I?" came the unmistakable voice of Gray Fullbuster, who was Jellal's bunkmate in the Army Reserves before they were deployed. Jellal's eyes widened as he took in his friend. He recognized the spiky black hair and the familiar scar above his left eye. The man grinned wickedly at Jellal, a cocky smile that was achingly familiar.

"Well, well, well," Gray Fullbuster said lazily. "You seem to have gotten yourself in quite a predicament, my friend."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jellal hissed. "Why are you wearing a guard's armor? Did you defect over to Pergrande now? Have you gone rogue?"

Gray looked around quickly, his eyes darting down the dim hallway to make sure they were alone. "Not quite," he said once he deemed the coast to be clear. "They sent me and a friend out on our own solo mission."

"Solo mission?" Jellal echoed. "Who's they?" He still wasn't quite sure if Gray was telling the truth- it had been a few years since he'd last seen his bunkmate- but they had been close friends in the time they shared together.

Gray leaned in. "I was sent by Rogue to get you out of here." he said, his eyes bright with warmth. He cracked another grin. "Come on. Did you really think Rogue of all people would abandon you out here?"

"He should have," Jellal grumbled, a bit confused. Things had suddenly gotten climatic, and his brain wasn't handling it very well. "You should leave."

Gray's eyes narrowed. "No," he said icily. "I'm not going anywhere until I bring back the true hero of the battle for Seven."

Jellal froze. "What did you say?" His words stuck in his throat and he had trouble swallowing. He stared at his friend with wide eyes, working his jaw as old memories came flooding back.

"Rogue told me everything," Gray murmured. "He told me that you were the one who won the battle. You were the one who planned the ambush at the ravine, and you were the one, not Rogue, that led them on the trail to the gorge, and how you sent three hundred men falling into the chasm."

Jellal could feel himself tumbling through his memories, which he had buried inside his mind. Now, they were coming back to life, in full force.

"_Rogue!" Jellal cried out after their major fell. He raced past the black haired lieutenant, startling him._

"_Jellal?" he asked, reloading his gun with quick efficiency, his fingers nimble and fast._

_Jellal leapt up onto the major's horse, a deep gray and silver animal with a noble face and a broad chest. The animal was prancing and running amuck after it's master had been shot, but it quieted down after Jellal said a few soothing words to the creature._

_Jellal turned the animal's head around. The battle roared around him, but to him, the world seemed empty except for him, the horse, and his friend and comrade, Rogue Cheney._

"_Rally the men," Jellal shouted angrily, yanking out his pistol from the holster on his belt. "I'm commander now, as senior officer. Do as I say, friend." Jellal was First Lieutenant, and he was under strict orders to take command if their senior commander, the major, was killed in battle._

_Rogue whipped around, shooting a Pergrande enemy point blank. Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering the dark haired man, who didn't even flinch._

"_Rally them?" Rogue asked, dodging writhing bodies to worm his way over to Jellal's side. "For what?"_

_Jellal pointed his gun in the direction of the canyon about two miles southeast. Rogue narrowed his eyes. "Is that..." he began shakily. Jellal then noticed the blood dripping down his friend's arm, possibly from a bullet. His heart pounded, but he kept his emotions under control._

"_Yes," he said, wheeling the horse around. "Get the men there. After that, do what your gut tells you."_

"_What about you?"_

_Jellal tipped his head to his friend. "I'll figure it out," he murmured sadly, kicking the animal and sending it hurtling forward, straight towards the bulk of the Pergrande Army. His mission was a suicidal one at best, but at this point, it was the only thing left on the table. And Jellal just played his final hand._

_He hefted his gun, slipping his finger on the trigger. Around him, lone Pergrande warriors began to converge on him, trying to intercept the rogue Fiorian soldier before he made it to the back of the Pergrande Army, where their head general sat in command._

_He howled in pain when a bullet smashed into his right shoulder, tearing through his body to exit out over his left shoulder bone. Underneath him, the horse whinnied and screamed in pain as soldiers swiped at it's flanks, but under Jellal's command, it kept racing forward._

_With a yell of pain and anger, Jellal leaned forward, encouraging the horse to leap over the few remaining soldiers blocking him from his goal. The animal complied, a deep rumble echoing deep from it's barrel chest._

_The horse landed, and the head general, a white bearded man, looked up from his war desk_

_His dark eyes widened, and his hand reached for his gun, which was lying unused on the desk next to him. Jellal saw this hand movement and aimed, his barrel pointing at the face of the wrinkled general._

_Jellal whispered a small prayer for the man's soul, then pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang, and Jellal's arm jolted from the release, but he held firm. The general gasped, feeling the insidious bullet enter his chest, tearing through the upper chamber of his heart. With a spurt of blood, the bullet exited out of his body, and the general collapsed._

_There were outraged cries of anguish and rage. Jellal felt a smile upon his lips, and he harshly kicked his horse forward. The animal snorted, eyes rolling, mouth foaming from labor. The animal jerked forward, jumping smoothly over the general's desk. Jellal caught a glimpse of the dead man's face as he soared over him: slack jaw, eyes wide and staring blankly into nothingness. He felt a pang of regret echo in his chest, but he shook off the feeling. There was no other choice, enemies had to die._

_A wave of Pergrande soldiers surged towards him, all intent on one thing: revenge. Jellal had murdered their commanding officer, and now there was hell to follow. But that was what Jellal had intended on happening._

_With a loud shout, he pointed his gun into the air, letting off a shot. It rang across the battlefield, and a wind whistled through the ranks of fighting men. A stillness seemed to follow, as every Pergrande soldier turned Jellal into a target._

_His horse galloped smoothly across the field, muscles stretching and moving solidly underneath it's short gray coat. Jellal leaned low over it's neck, his eyes fixed on a certain point in the distance._

_He turned and looked behind him. The Pergrande soldiers were all leaving their individual fights to surge after him as one, bloodlust alive in their murderous eyes. Beyond that, Jellal thought he could make out the dark figure of Rogue rallying their forces, getting them to all converge at a single spot._

_Now we have a chance, Jellal thought with a satisfied expression. He turned in his saddle and focused back on the topic at hand._

_He heard the faint sound of hoofbeats following him, and knew that the Pergrande cavalrymen were on his heels. He gritted his teeth, feeling his horse's breath under his legs. The animal was tiring, but it was doing it's best to keep up it's strength._

"_Come on boy," Jellal whispered, patting it's neck. "Just a little farther."_

_They were nearing the gorge now, and Jellal could hear the faint roaring of rapids up ahead. His horse whinnied in terror as the cliffs came into view, and tried to shy away, but Jellal kept a firm grip on the reins._

_He turned for the last time, trying to calculate how many soldiers were on his tail. He estimated about two hundred were following him, seventy of them on horseback, at least. They were close, coming upon him fast. If he slowed down, they'd be on him within seconds._

_He turned back, eyeing the steep canyon. A twinge of fear swept through him, but, unlike most men, he accepted it with open arms. Fear was something that couldn't be tamed, and it wasn't something that you could bury away. Fear was something that had to be accepted and welcomed. Getting rid of fear was impossible, but surmounting it wasn't._

_He took in a deep breath, and kicked his horse forward. The animal screamed in terror, but at this point, it's momentum wouldn't have allowed anything else to occur. As the horse galloped straight over the edge of the ravine, Jellal whispered two words, "Mother," and "Wendy."_

_Behind him, there were shouts of terror and screams of intense fear. But nothing could stop them from careening over the edge to join Jellal in his mad dash of suicide._

_With the roaring of the water and the screams of his horse filling his ears, Jellal closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the watery depths of the unknown. As he hit the water, his last thought was of Rogue. It's up to you now, my friend, he thought, before his consciousness faded and drifted out to merge with the river's darkness._

_That day, Fiore won it's first decisive victory against Pergrande, and First Lieutenant Jellal was dragged out of the river, his silver and gray horse following close at heel. It was also, on that fateful day, that Rogue Cheney found himself promoted to a one star general, as the mastermind behind the fall of Pergrande's army into the chasm._

_No one stopped to think about Jellal Fernandes's part in the plan, as the true genius behind it all. Rogue Cheney tried to protest, but no one would listen._

_So while one man rose to power and fame, the other sank into his comrade's shadow, his deeds forgotten in all but one man's memory._

Or now, it would seem to be many men's memories that held the story of Jellal Fernandes and his victory in Seven. Jellal looked at Gray, who stared back at him with respect shining in his deep blue eyes. There was no hint of deceit in his eyes or written on his face, just a sincere look of awe and high regard.

"I'm getting you out of here," Gray hissed. "My other man, Natsu Dragneel, has infiltrated the castle as an ambassador from one of Pergrande's smaller allies. We intercepted the real one a few days ago, and since the Pergrande Royals don't know what he looks like, we thought this was a perfect opportunity to pull some strings."

Gray smirked. "We're about to kill two birds with one stone. Save the real hero of the war and get intel on Pergrande's next movements."

Jellal leaned forward, opening his mouth, when the sound of a door alerted him. Gray, too, heard the sound, and his head whipped around, eyes narrowing, nose flaring.

He turned back to Jellal, and put a finger to his lips. "They don't quite trust me, I'm afraid," the dark haired man whispered. "So you'll have to forgive me from running out on you like this. I'll keep in touch, one way or another."

"Gray-" Jellal began, his chains clanking as he surged forward, trying to catch his friend's attention, but Gray Fullbuster had slipped quietly away, his dark form blending in with the shadows of the dungeon. He left Jellal clinging at the bars of his cell, staring out into the darkness.

The subtle sounds of footsteps gained his attention once more, and he turned his head, narrowing his eyes as his guard sauntered up to him, a lazy expression on his face. He had, in his right hand, a pair of steel handcuffs, and he was currently twirling them around his index finger.

He walked straight up to Jellal's cell. "You have an appointment," the guard sneered, unlocking the door to Jellal's hold and stepping in. Jellal scrambled to his feet warily and looked at the guard carefully.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice quiet and contained despite the turmoil in his head.

The guard simply shook his head and grabbed Jellal, turning the bluenette around and throwing him against the wall of his prison. Jellal winced as his arms were wrenched behind his back with a brutal force, and hissed when the guard threw the handcuffs on, pinching the sensitive skin of Jellal's wrists.

The guard unlocked Jellal's ankle chains, letting them clank to the floor. He stood and grasped Jellal roughly by the arms, forcing the bluenette to walk out of his prison. "Let's go," the guard said angrily, shoving him forward. Jellal just barely managed to catch himself before falling onto the cold stone floor.

He walked forward hesitantly. He had taken his shirt off before, after getting in from the manual labor, and had used it as a pillow for his nap while he waited for his meal. Now, in the cool air of the castle halls, he shivered, longing for it's ratty, yet surprising, warmth.

He was led up several staircases, down winding halls, and through large reception rooms. The sheer amount of wealth and prosperity shocked him, and then made him angry. A country like Pergrande did not need to expand its borders when it had this much finery. Their acts of violence against other nations was inexcusable, and Jellal felt the fires of hatred and animosity towards the country flickering to life within his chest.

He was stopped before two golden doors, the stunning design on their faces floored Jellal. It depicted a rich scene of a god, garbed in robes of the clearest white. The god had a stern look on his face, and he had a golden goblet in one hand. On his head rested a wreath of laurels.

The guard reached around Jellal's side and grasped the heavy wooden knocker on the door. The sound resonated through the wood, making a deep booming sound that echoed into Jellal's very bones. It was a powerful, rich, and deep sound. Jellal's eyes locked with the god's, and, even though they were simply paint, he felt the urge to shiver. They seemed to be staring into Jellal's soul.

There was a faint "Enter," and Jellal's ears barely heard it. It came to fast and was gone to quickly for him to tell if it was male or female, but he supposed that didn't matter. He was more curious as to who it was that wanted to meet with him. Their gender, he could wait a few more heartbeats to find out.

The guard pushed open the door, letting a bright light shine through. Jellal squinted, trying in vain to block his eyes from the sudden glare, which contrasted with the dimness of the dungeons he had grown accustomed to.

The guard pushed Jellal forward. The bluenette was caught off guard and stumbled forward, losing his balance and crashing to his knees. They hit plush carpet, cushioning his fall, so when he landed, he barely felt any pain, just a dull throbbing as his legs hit the floor.

He blinked, looking up, shaking his head to sweep the hair out of his eyes. When he did, his eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth dropped open in a silent gasp of amazement.

For the second time today, whether by a sheer act of fate, or by accident, he bumped into Erza Scarlet.

She stood before him, her mouth open in surprise, her eyes brimming with shock at his sudden appearance. Her hair was piled at the base of her neck in a sloppy bun, and in her hands was a pile of fresh, clean linens. She looked so beautiful, it was all Jellal could do to stop and stare.

However, she was not the one Jellal was to meet with. She was a mere servant, and he doubted guards were just going to let prisoners out of their chambers on a mere plea by a serving girl.

"I'm over here," a feminine voice said, deep and sultry. It was a voice that wielded power and held a veil of mysteriousness to it. Jellal swallowed, feeling suddenly nauseous, and turned his head, focusing on the woman lounging on a soft padded seat with high armrests and a golden back.

She had long black hair, which was left long and draping down her back. It parted over her forehead, long black bangs that framed her face, shoved to the side with careful placement. There were two bun-shaped loops at the top of her head, with two identical braids below them.

Her face reminded Jellal of a geisha: lips covered in a glossy, dark lipstick; slanted green eyes; long, curving eyelashes, and a pair of raindrop shaped eyebrows. Her face was pale, with high cheekbones, and there was an intensely smug look in her eye that revealed to Jellal that she was of noble birth.

When he turned to her, she straightened up, leaning forward in her seat with a predatory look in her ivy green eyes. Such a look made Jellal feel like prey, and he squirmed underneath her unflinching stare.

"My, my, you are a handsome one," the woman purred, and her voice sent waves of discomfort racing through Jellal's veins. He shivered, but kept his gaze on her, never wavering, never faltering. He felt proud of himself for being so steadfast in front of what seemed to be a dangerous enemy.

"My name is Minerva, princess of Pergrande," the woman continued, getting off her seat and walking towards Jellal, the sway in her hips clearly meant to seduce him. She wore a long blue dress, like a cheongsam. It parted up her left leg, exposing patches of her thigh and creamy leg whenever she walked.

As she came forward, Erza stepped behind her, keeping her gaze locked on Jellal's. There was a light of fear in her deep brown eyes, and they kept flickering between Jellal and Minerva. She bit her lip, meeting Jellal's gaze.

Its ok, Jellal thought at her, willing her to see his message in his eyes. I'll be okay.

She nodded, a sharp, quick nod, then continued with her work. She kept an eye on him, and kept the two in her line of sights while she worked.

Minerva prowled around Jellal, an appreciative look in her dark eyes. Jellal raised his head, staring back at her with contempt.

"What do you want?" he rasped, his voice steady and strong.

Minerva looked at him, and ran a hand down his jaw, cupping his chin in her fingers. "Simple," the woman purred, stroking his face lovingly.

"You."

Those words sent a shiver of disgust through Jellal's body. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Erza's mouth drop in a silent gasp of shock.

Bile rose in his throat, and he wasn't sure if he could get out of this situation. Either way, from anyone's perspective, he was in deep.

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><p><strong>AN: Yup. that's it.**

**leave a review, please?**

**-Wolf**

**P.S. I'll try and update faster... _I'll try._**


	6. Cross My Heart

**A/N: I have no excuse. Sorry for the late update. I'm a bad writer**

**I don't plan on any sadistic sort of plot, and this story is rated T-M. There will be some lime references, but nothing too major**

**thanks for the many review, follows, and favorites. You guys are awesome!**

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><p><strong>Chapter six: Cross My Heart<strong>

Fate was a cruel and mysterious thing, something of which Erza Scarlet could never understand. It was incomprehensible; this nefarious destiny that wrapped tightly around Jellal Fernandes.

She barely knew this man, this ragged soldier, but she already felt some sort of bond with him. She could tell that he was a kind, kindred soul, with a big heart.

She saw his eyes widen in absolute horror, then quickly narrow in abhorrence at the dark haired woman standing before him. He got to his feet, despite the glares of the guard standing behind him. Erza was impressed- anyone with a lesser will would have collapsed under the weight of Minerva's declaration, but not him. No, he stood with his shoulders back, his head held high, and a proud look in his forest eyes. He stood strong in the face of adversary while any lesser man would have submitted.

"I am not someone's toy," he hissed between gritted teeth. "I will never bow down to the likes of you."

Erza flinched. She prepared herself for Minerva's outrage, which was like a wildfire- it grew quickly and soon became out of control. The princess of Pergrande was a proud, vain, and cruel woman who liked being dominant. She liked power, and she especially did not like it when someone didn't bow down to her rules. She became unhinged, like a raging demon, one that was determined to destroy the very heavens themselves. Erza herself had witnessed only one of these tantrums, and it had not been pretty.

And it had been directed all at Lucy.

"_Why are my sheets dirty still?" Minerva hissed, glaring at the trembling blonde who stood before her. Erza, who was in the bathroom, cleaning the sink, peeped throught the crack between the door and the wall. She had to angle her head into a bent position to see clearly._

"_I-I'm terribly sorry," Lucy squeaked, her dark eyes full of terror. Erza bit her lip, refraining from going out to defend her friend. However much she wanted to, it would only reflect bad on Lucy. Erza didn't want her blonde friend to get into any more trouble than she already was in._

"_That's no excuse for being lazy!" Minerva screamed, leaning over Lucy. Her hands were on her slim hips, and her dark hair was perfect, not a hair out of place. But her face was red and puffed out, her green eyes burning with a fury so great, it reminded Erza of fire. Dark, dangerous, hateful flames that yearned to burn the world until nothing was left but soot and ash._

_She may have been a bit too descriptive, but overdoing it she was not. Erza Scarlet knew what a hyperbole was- an exaggeration of the truth- but she was not exaggerating. The green fires burning in Minerva's eyes were sinister._

_Lucy tried to reason with Minerva. "Mistress, you hadn't yet left the room," she began carefully, emulating with her hands to try and pacify the raging princess. "I only wished to wait until you left."_

_:So you are saying that this is my fault?" Minerva's voice was deadly quiet, and strangely still, like the calm before the storm. Erza sensed the ozone in the air, and knew trouble was on the horizon._

"_Get out of there, Lucy," she begged, grasping the folds of her dress and biting her lip. She longed to go and save her friend, but she couldn't. The only thing she could do was watch from afar and pray that her friend would be ok._

"_No, princess, I just-"_

"_How dare you!" Minerva screamed. She flew at Lucy, who squealed in fear and jumped to the side, just barely avoiding Minerva's dive. The princess tripped and landed in a sprawling heap on the bed, while Lucy Heartfilia did the smartest thing a human could do after surviving Minerva's rage._

_She fled the scene, throwing open the door to the princess's room and running down the hallway as if wings had sprouted on her feet. Erza sighed in relief, and muttered a thank you to any god out there, thanking them for sparing Lucy from Minerva's fury._

_There was a moment of eerie silence, which was unsettling. The quiet and the stillness made Erza tense. She was unsure of how unstable Minerva was at this moment, and she feared what would become of her if the princess took her anger out on the redhead._

"_Erza Scarlet," she heard the princess say, in a deadly calm voice that was extremely unnerving. She sounded so stable, so at peace, it was almost uncanny. It was then, at that moment, Erza decided that the princess Minerva was bipolar._

_She straightened her shoulders and put an emotionless expression on her face. With one last breath, she walked through the bathroom door and smiled serenely, as if she hadn't witnessed what had just occurred moments ago._

"_Yes, milady?" she said, keeping her gaze locked on a point just below Minerva's mouth, out of respect. She dared not look into her green eyes, since that would be taken offensively. A lesser subject should not look into the eyes of nobility, it is seen as mutiny and a lack of respect. _

"_Change these sheets," Minerva hissed, striding past Erza and into the bathroom. "And make sure they're clean."_

"_Yes, milady," Erza murmured, staying frozen only until the bathroom door slammed shut behind her. Once she heard water running, then Erza deemed it safe to continue working._

_She didn't see Lucy for the rest of the day. The blonde seemed to have disappeared, which made Erza slightly worried. She hoped with all her heart that Lucy was alright._

_The blonde servant returned to their shared dorm after curfew. She was crying, and she shuffled into the room with her head hidden under waves of blonde hair. In the dim candlelight, her golden hair seemed to be dyed red._

_Only when Lucy raised her head, did Erza realize that her hair was dyed a reddish hue. It came from the blood that dripped down Lucy's forehead._

_She had been beaten._

Now, Erza feared for Jellal as he stood, so defiantly, in front of one of the most deadliest women in the world. After seeing what had happened to Lucy, who had barely- if at all- defied Minerva, Erza was terrified as to what the princess would do to a man who blatantly refused her pursuits.

Minerva narrowed her eyes, but didn't respond to Jellal's refusal. She lifted his chin in her hands and studied him carefully, purring appreciatively when he flinched as she dug her fingers in his skin.

"You have an aristocratic mouth," Minerva finally said, dropping her hand. He worked his jaw furiously and shook his head, all the while keeping his dark eyes on Minerva's pale face.

"Normally, I'd have you sent to the gallows for being so impertinent," Minerva said, turning and continuing her prowl around Jellal. "Or I'd send you to the executioner's block. However," her eyes glittered maliciously, a deep, intense green that made Erza blanch, "You have an appealing personality, and a strong will to match. I will enjoy breaking that will, and I will take pleasure in making you mine."

"Never," Jellal said venomously, hatred lacing his words. "I do not submit to women who terrorize others."

Minerva didn't bat an eye, and just calmly sashayed back to her seat. As soon as she sat back down, making herself comfortable, did she speak again. "We shall see," she hissed, running a painted nail down the side of her cheek. "We shall see."

The guard took this as his cue to end the conversation. With a huff, he walked over to Jellal, grabbing the bluenette roughly by the arm and dragging him backwards. "Take him to the room I've prepared," Minerva called out. "Make sure he's comfortable, then report back to me."

"Of course, my lady," The guard said, bowing stiffly. Jellal stared at Minerva icily, before his eyes slid over to land on Erza.

She looked at him with deep regret, wishing that his fate wasn't so. This fate of his condemned him to the worst possible future imaginable. She would have rathered him stay a prisoner for the rest of his life rather than be subjected to Minerva's will.

She walked down the hallways of the castle, biting her lip. Erza Scarlet was deep in thought. Her hands dangled at her side, limp and twitching, and her legs moved her robotically down the stone corridor. Her dark brown eyes, which were usually glowing with life and vigor, reflected the dim light and shone with nothing but an empty blankness. Her entire face was closed off, void of any emotion.

She blinked, and her hands suddenly curled into fists. Her mouth twitched, and a second later she gritted her teeth, letting a small growl of frustration escape past her lips.

_"My name?" he whispered, his voice deep and slow, as if words were foreign to him. "Why do you want to know?"_

She had wanted to know because he was the only thing that seemed bright in this dismal setting. It wasn't because of his hair- although his deep azure locks really were a spotlight against the dark grays of winter- but it was because he seemed to glow with an inner light. That was what attracted Erza to him.

_"Jellal, my name is Jellal Fernandes."_

When he said his name, it was like chocolate on her lips; she had repeated it quietly under her breath. His name was smooth and rich, just like the tone of his voice. It held a mystery she longed to uncover, a puzzle just aching to be solved.

_"Scarlet. That way I'll never forget."_

She suddenly stopped walking, heat flooding her cheeks as his words came flooding back to her. Delicately, she reached up and twined her red locks around her finger. A smile came to her lips, for what reasons she did not know. But something about his words sent a tiny thrill racing through Erza's veins, warming her body and igniting something deep within her, something she had yet to understand.

She shook her head, and continued walking down the hallway. She shivered as a sudden draft whistled through the stone wall, creating a quiet, whispering sound that was strangely eerie. It reminded Erza of the ghost stories her mother used to tell her.

She felt a sudden pang of sorrow hit her like she took a hit to the gut. She shook her head, closing her eyes, but the memories rose and swallowed her in a wave of suppressed emotions that refused to be ignored.

"_Erza, why must you insist on hearing this story again?" Erza's mother looked aghast as she stared down at her daughter, who at the age of eighteen, seemed to be frightened of nothing._

"_Because I like that story, and I want to tell it to Simon later," Erza argued, smoothing down the ruffled apron she was wearing. "Come on, mother. I forgot half of it. If I want to tell it to Simon, then I need to know it by heart."_

"_Sweetheart, Simon isn't as strong as you are," her mother said gently, trying not to sound mean. The dark haired boy that was Erza's best friend had a timid heart, and was spooked at the smallest things. That was why he naturally stuck by Erza, who seemed to be the boldest and the least fearful out of all the village children. She stuck out like a flame- her soul was strong and and her spirit was brave. She was the girl that every child looked up to, even ones that were older than her. She was charismatic and a brilliant leader. _

_Yet, she was also terribly rude to Simon sometimes, and Erza's mother often wondered how the boy tolerated it. Erza teased him ruthlessly, and yet Simon never objected, but calmly put up with Erza's taunts._

_Erza's mother looked at her daughter. She had inherited her red hair, but received her father's brown eyes instead of her own green. And right now, those brown eyes of Erza's were wide and pleading, her lips pursed, and her hands clasped together in a praying position. She leaned into her mother's chest and begged with her eyes._

_Her mother caved, just like Erza knew she would. Erza was her mother's weakness, and she always seemed to be able to get what she wanted. _

"_Fine," her mother said. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped away from Erza, retreating to the kitchen table and sitting down. "Come here, and sit," she said sternly, patting the seat next to her._

_Erza grinned, walking over and plopping down on the hard, wood chair. Her mother rolled her eyes and muttered, "Can't believe we're doing this again," before beginning the story._

"_There was once a man who went by the name of Ichiya," she began seriously, putting a dark tone to her voice. "After a long day of unlucky hunting, Ichiya found himself stuck in the middle of the marshlands for the night, without a flashlight or a lantern to guide his steps. So he settled beside a fallen log to rest until daylight. As Ichiya rested, he recalled the story his friend told him about a ghost that haunted the marshlands._

"_There was once a man named Jack who was a nasty fellow. He beat his wife and kids and was an all-around bad chap. Jack got worse and worse as the years rolled by. But finally Jack's body got so wore out that he died. He went up to heaven, but Saint Peter refused to let such a wretched fellow in. Then he went to Hell, but the Devil barred the door as soon as he saw Jack coming and wouldn't let him in either. "Go away and don't come back," the Devil told Jack._

""_How am I supposed to get back in the dark?" Jack grumbled. "Give me a lantern."_

"_So the Devil threw a chunk of molten fire out to Jack, who took it for his lantern and went back to earth, where he wanders forever through the swamps and marshlands of the earth, a bitter spirit whose only delight was in luring the unwary to their doom with his lamp._

"_At this juncture in his musings, Ichiya happened to look out over the marshes and noticed a blinking light in the fog._

""_Is that you, Jack O'Lantern?" he called jovially."_

_Erza's mom paused in the story, taking a moment to revel in her daughter's complete absorption in the story. She gave a little chuckle before continuing._

""_Jack, jack, jack," a voice whispered back. Ichiya was seriously spooked. he clutched his gun to his chest, the hairs on his arms standing on end. Had that been an echo of of his voice, or was someone out here with him?_

""_Who's there?" he shouted, trying to sound brave and menacing. He waved the gun around. "Show yourself at once."_

""_Jack, jack, jack" the voice hissed from a completely different section of the swamp. A light blinked on and then off. On and then off._

"_Shudders ran up Ichiya's spine at the sound of that ghastly voice coming from nowhere. He huddled up against the log, wanting something firm at his back. Suddenly, the story of the Jack O'Lantern didn't seem so funny."_

_Erza rested her head in her hands. Her mind was racing, trying to imagine Simon's terrified face when she would tell the story. She couldn't wait to scare him._

""_Ichiya's heart was pounding so hard it made his chest hurt. He strained his ears in the silence that fell over the swamp._

""_Jack, jack, jack" the voice hissed from somewhere to Ichiya's left this time. The light blinked on, off, on…he counted ten heartbeats this time before it went off._

"_The voice sounded closer. Ichiya held very still, his instincts screaming at him to hold his breath and not move until the menace had passed. The voice came again, far off to the right. "Jack, (jack, jack)" it hissed. The light came on, off, on…off._

"_It's moving away, Ichiya thought, relaxing just a bit, feeling safer. There was a long, long, long silence. Nothing stirred, not the wind in the grass, not the frogs or turtles in the water, not the crickets or night insects._

"_"Jack, jack, jack" the voice hissed softly, right into Ichiya's ear. And he looked up into the glowing red eyes and twisted face of the Jack O'Lantern._

_Erza shuddered, feeling a chill up her spine._

"_Ichiya screamed, and lashed out at it with my gun. He ran a few steps, tripped and fell over, knocking his head on a sharp stone. For a moment he saw stars, and he felt blood pouring from his scalp. But the Jack O'Lantern was right behind his. He had to get away. So Ichiya rolled and fell into a deep pool. He plunged underneath the water, flailing desperately against ropelike grasses that tried to keep him down. His head finally burst out of the water, and he gasped desperately for air, treading water as best he could with trembling limbs and an aching head. He heard the creature laugh in the mist._

""_Jack, jack, jack" the voice hissed delightedly, and the light blinked on, off, on right over Ichiya's head, blinding his dazed eyes as horror flowed through him and froze his limbs so he could no longer swim. For a long moment, the grotesque face and red eyes of the Jack O'Lantern loomed out of the mist before Ichiya's petrified gaze._

"_His head started to swim with pain from his bleeding skull. The evil face above him, lit by its bright light, whirled around and around, growing dimmer as Ichiya's eyes started to glaze. He was vaguely aware that he should keep swimming, keep trying to make his way to the edge of the pool, but the effort was too much for his suddenly heavy limbs. He barely noticed himself plunging down and down into the watery depths of the pool, too stunned by his injury to fight his way to the surface a second time._

""_Then there was only darkness, and silence, and a voice hissing in cold triumph: "Jack, jack, jack.""_

_Erza's mother finished the story. She blinked, noting the tiny note of fear in Erza's eyes. The redhead shuddered, feeling disturbed by the story, but tried to hide it by looking excited, ready to scare Simon off._

_Erza's mother leaned forward. "You know, Erza," she said softly, raking her fingers through Erza's knotty hair. "You don't have to pretend to be brave, sweetheart."_

_Erza smiled faintly. "I'm fine," she said in a firm voice, thankful that she wasn't shaking. She stood. "I want to go and tell the story to Simon now."_

"_Wait a minute, Erza," Her mother said, getting to her feet. She motioned for her daughter to stay put. "Let me give you something."_

_Erza frowned, but stayed in place, tapping her foot while waiting patiently for her mother, who had disappeared into their shared bedroom. She heard shuffling, some muffled curses, and the sound of their closet door opening._

_An "Ah hah!" alerted Erza, and she stood straight, her eyes narrowed in interest. Her mother came back into their kitchen holding something in her hand. Erza frowned. "What's that?" she asked, her eyes glimmering with intrigue._

"_Close your eyes," her mother said. Erza rolled her eyes, but did so, waiting in anticipation. She felt her mother's hands on her head, and then felt something cold thunk against her chest. It was heavy and Erza heard the small chink of a necklace chain clink against itself._

"_Take a look," her mother said softly, and Erza opened her eyes. When she looked down, she noticed a beautifully designed silver cross hanging in the valley between her breasts. When she held it in her hand to get a closer look, she noticed what seemed to be a dark blue stone place in the juncture of the hilt and the blade. It was artfully crafted, and hung heavily around Erza's neck. The necklace made her suddenly feel safe and protected, like she had something watching out for her._

"_Thank you, mother," she said, reaching out to embrace the other woman. "What is it for?"_

"_It'll protect you incase Jack comes to get you," her mother said, making a joke. Era frowned, feeling her mother's taut muscles in her arms. "Or from anything else that dares to try and harm you."_

_Her mother pulled out of Erza's embrace. "Go," she said, a smile on her face. "Tell Simon that story, but for god's sake, don't scare the poor boy away. He's a sweet kid, Erza."_

_Erza smiled happily, retreating to the door, the cross held tightly in her hand. "Cross my heart," she promised. "I'll see you!" She waved once more at her mother before flying out the door, her red hair waving out behind her like a vermillion tide._

"_Be safe," her mother whispered._

_That was three days before the raid on Erza's town occurred. Three days before her family was brutally slaughtered, and Erza was captured by the enemy._

Erza sighed, wiping the faint tears that came to her eyes. She smiled, the memory of her mother warming her body. She fingered the sword necklace hidden under the neckline of her dress and ran her fingers over it's smooth edge, taking comfort in it's warm presence.

She continued her walk down the castle corridors, her mind lost in memories of her family, and of Simon. She loved that boy, but not in the way that he had wanted. When he kissed her, she never felt any sense of love for him other than that of a brother. He had kissed her that very afternoon, the same afternoon her mother had told her the Jack O'Lantern story. She had pulled away from him in shock. She couldn't bear to look at him, not after he kissed her. So she sent him away in tears, after she yelled that she hated him.

She never talked to him again. Because three days later, he was gone, just another corpse lying on the ground.

She sighed. She had never before felt remorse or regret, not like this. But the feeling wouldn't go away- knowing that her last words to him had been ones of hatred made Erza loathe herself. She wasn't sure if she could forgive herself for those detestable words.

Suddenly, Erza bumped into something hard. There was a resonating crack as she walked headfirst into that something, and then someone cursed and stumbled back. Erza blinked, realizing what had just happened.

A young man stood in front of her, looking with wide eyes at his feet, where a pile of shattered glass lay. He had dark black hair, and a pair of dark blue eyes to match. He was dressed in a pair of black trousers tucked into black boots, and a dark blue, long sleeved cotton shirt. The collar was open, exposing a view to his well muscled pectoral muscles. Erza blushed and averted her eyes, looking down at the pile of glass instead.

From the remains, it looked to be a simple glass cross. There was a silver chain amidst the pile, and Erza realized that it was a cross necklace. Her mouth opened in a silent "oh" of horror at what she'd done.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," she said, reaching out. "I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," the man said, waving her off. "It was just a necklace. No big deal."

"You seem upset," Erza noticed, looking at his arms, which were tensing. His eyes were narrowed, and an aura of distress rose off of him in waves.

"No, it's-" the man looked at her, then shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I'm upset," he concluded, scuffing at the tiny pile of glass with the toe of one boot. "A friend in the Reserves gave it to me when we were rookies in the army."

Erza frowned. "I'm sorry," she repeated, looking down at her hands. "Were the two of you close?"

He nodded. "He was my bunkmate. That necklace was his sister's, but he figured that I'd have better use of it. She had already given him several other trinkets to remember her by, so he gave that to me as a token of our friendship."

Erza shook her head. "I didn't see you," she mumbled. "And I know that's a real crap apology for breaking something that was so close to you. Have you seen your friend recently?"

"He was deployed to the front lines as soon as we were drafted," the man explained. "I thought I'd never see him again. I thought he had been killed in action, since he seemed to have fallen off the face of this earth. But I actually ran into him not too long ago. A friend and I were searching for his whereabouts, and I found him."

"That's good to hear. I hope he's- oh! I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," Erza said quickly, wiping her hands on her apron and extending one to the man. "I'm Erza Scarlet. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Gray Fullbuster. The pleasure's all mine, Miss Scarlet," Gray said, taking her hand in his and giving her a firm shake. His hand was rough and calloused, but warm and soft at the same time. He had a strong grasp, the kind of hold that would make anyone feel protected. It was a nice feeling.

Gray studied Erza's face, looking at her hair intently. "Scarlet, huh?" he said, letting go of her hand to touch the locks framing her face. Immediately, Erza flushed, and tried to hide her face.

"Stupid, huh?" Erza said, slightly embarrassed. "Red like my hair."

Gray shook his head. "Nah," he muttered, tucking her hair behind one ear. "It suits you. Scarlet. So I'll never forget."

His words were so similar to Jellal's that it was like a knife to the gut. There were so many men in the world, and many of which looked at her like she was inhuman because of the strange color of her hair. And yet, two men looked at her and swore her hair was perfect.

_"Scarlet. That way I'll never forget."_

"So, Scarlet," Gray's voice came through Erza's thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

Erza gestured back behind her. "I just came from princess Minerva's quarters," she said. "There was a man that Minerva wanted to see, so I tidied her room for her."

Gray's eyes narrowed in interest. "A man?" he said in an inquiring tone.

Erza nodded. She thought of Jellal, and her heart swelled again. "His name is Jellal Fernandes."

Gray's eyebrows rose, and there was a flash of interest and panic in his deep blue eyes, so quick Erza thought she was dreaming. He shook his head and ran his hand through his thick black hair.

"You're a maid of the Princess?" He asked, his voice suddenly sounding unsteady.

Erza nodded. "Yes, yes I am."

Gray smiled. "Well, that's nice. I'm new here, and you seem to be in good standings with the princess since you're one of her servants. Maybe you could show me around, help me get to know this place better?"

Erza nodded. "Of course. It's the least I could do after breaking your necklace. Speaking of which, here," she said, making a rash and bold decision. She reached under her neckline, and pulled her necklace over her head. Quickly, she reached forward and draped her necklace around Gray's neck, pulling him a bit closer so she could get it over his head. She heard his quick intake of breath at her sudden move, but didn't pay attention. His skin felt warm under her hands, and in that fleeting moment, when her hands were near his collarbone, she felt the erratic beating of his heart. She bit her lip, looking at her necklace around her neck, before backing away from him.

"There," she declared. "Now you can have an unbreakable one to replace the one I broke."

He looked at it, dangling around his neck. One hand came up and fingered it, a thoughtful expression on his face. He smiled.

"Thank you, Erza," he murmured.

Erza smiled. "No problem," she whispered. "Just promise to take good care of it." That necklace had made her feel safe for so long, but in Gray's presence, she no longer felt the need to be protected by an idol. He made her feel safe enough.

"Cross my heart," he promised her solemnly. He tucked it into hi me and earth's shirt, then awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Are- Are you busy right now?" Gray suddenly asked her. He smiled unsteadily at her. "Maybe we could get to know each other now."

Erza thought for a moment. "Like a tour?" She asked suddenly, a brilliant idea coming to her mind. She could take him around the castle, using him as a tool to search for where Jellal was taken. She felt guilty for using him, but she needed to make sure Jellal was alright.

"Come on," she said, reaching out her hand. "I'll give you the grand tour."

He didn't hesitate, but simply took her hand. "Okay," He murmured, squeezing it softly. "Lead on."

* * *

><p>Gray frowned, looking at the redheaded woman walking along in front of him. She was beautiful, and just what Gray needed to find his way around the castle.<p>

She knew of Jellal, and with a little nudging, she'd know where he'd be. She'd be Gray's tool in undermining Pergrande and saving Jellal.

"I'll save you, Jellal," he muttered, reaching up to clutch Erza's sword necklace.

"That's a promise."


End file.
